


Treading Water

by DanyellaSkylerSilverfire, notbug (KageKashu)



Series: Reconciliation-verse (or: Madara is kinda Crazy. Everyone's learning to live with it.) [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, And the Consequences Thereof, Custody Concerns, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Cannibalism, Hair care, Hashirama needs to be grounded again, Implied Patricide, M/M, Madara continues to be a human trashfire, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Tobirama joins him in trashfiredom, Voice Kink, a wild Touka appears, blowjob, drama queen Madara, idle suicidal ideation, it will earn its rating eventually, on a brighter note, possibly counts as breathplay, the bafflement of an overprotective sibling, the ninjutsu equivalent of forgotten meds, when did these idiots turn around and get domestic?, who doesn’t like a little danger in their love life?, why can’t these two have normal sex already, you really shouldn’t touch someone who’s having a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyellaSkylerSilverfire/pseuds/DanyellaSkylerSilverfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageKashu/pseuds/notbug
Summary: The road to recovery is a long one, with much bitching and moaning along the way. Madara’s trying, but he’s not exactly on program. Life doesn’t stop just because he’s acknowledging that he needs help.





	1. In Which Everyone is More Reasonable than Expected

**Author's Note:**

> Not the angst filled custody battle everyone was probably getting worried about.
> 
> I'm tentatively thinking 10 chapters, but that may change. Updates probably twice a week, _likely_ Tues morning and Sat morning.

Madara had the absolute worst headache. It was _surreal_ being stuck in a room with these people. Hikaku was there with him to help represent Uchiha interests - as the elders apparently didn’t trust Madara to do so anymore. Even in regards to such a matter as an Uchiha child in the hands of another clan. 

Hashirama, as Hokage, was supposed to be the unbiased “observer,” but it was impossible for him to be unbiased in the matter as the Senju were on the opposite side. He wrung his hands and made generally miserable faces over the whole thing, seeming to be genuinely upset. 

Tobirama represented the Senju, as the Senju’s de facto clan head during Hashirama’s time as Hokage. At his side was the child’s mother, whose wild black hair rivaled Madara’s own. She looked better suited to smiles, but right now, she had an angry pout as she corralled her son close. Unsurprisingly, she directed her glare at Madara in particular. 

The boy in question was a curly haired imp that Madara had met once before. Kagami was normally a cheerful brat, but today, his eyes were serious as they flickered between the various adults. Given that Madara _had_ met him before, he could say one thing for certain: Kagami was a happy child, and taking him into the Uchiha clan would probably destroy that. 

Thank the stars for Hashirama, though. He may be an idiot most times, but in the private meeting they had setting this one up, Hashirama had heard, “I don’t care” and translated the truth of “I’m really frustrated.” He heard, “If it was up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” and recognized the “I don’t have as much power in my clan as I’m supposed to, so I have to do something for the cabbage-scarfing old bastards.” It just went to prove that there was more to the man than his public face tended to show. 

Truthfully, Madara would rather the kid be raised by the Senju. If he was taken into the Uchiha creche, he would be stigmatized for being half Senju. As long as this Kukaku was a good woman, and a loving mother, he wanted for her to continue raising the boy. And she looked like a fighter, too. Whether she was a shinobi was questionable, but given her apparent age, he had a good idea of what had happened to her. The wooden prosthetic that took the place of one arm only supported the thought. She moved like the injury was as old as her child. 

“We need some kind of compromise,” Madara eventually stated, worn out by the proceedings in spite of the fact that everyone had been reasonable so far. “I don’t particularly want to take a child away from a loving mother, but my elders don’t want an Uchiha raised as a Senju.” 

Hikaku opened his mouth for the first time in the meeting, and didn’t subside at the glare Madara cast in his direction. “A marriage contract would negate all concerns,” he stated, eyeing Madara a little warily. 

“Are you volunteering?” Tobirama asked, expression twisting in a scowl, and Hikaku flinched back. For Madara, it was nice not to be the focus of his ire, for once, even if it meant throwing one of his clansmen under the fireball. “Even if you were, the Senju don’t force their own into unwanted marriage contracts. If Kukaku wishes to marry, she’ll do so. But as it is, no Uchiha has yet to meet her standards.” 

Madara leaned forward with a groan and rubbed his brow with one gloved hand. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea, anyway.” 

“Is there anything we can do that will satisfy your elders without a marriage, or you taking my kid away?” Kukaku asked, her own expression having smoothed into something thoughtful. Kagami was staring across the table at him from under her real arm. 

“I wonder,” said Hashirama, looking like the dumb mooncalf he generally pretended to be. “You said that your elders don’t want him raised ‘as a Senju,’ correct?” The false innocence of his expression was momentarily tainted with a sly smile. “So what if Kukaku raises him as an Uchiha?” 

And Tobirama was smirking at that. “It would give the outward appearance of capitulation, but nothing important would actually change. However, I think that won’t be enough.” 

No, it wouldn’t be enough, not quite, but it was an excellent start. Hikaku was already voicing an objection, but Madara waved him down, a brilliant thought coming to mind. “Perhaps if he were to take the name, but _nothing_ else. All Uchiha have the right to be taught clan techniques within the clan, but if he continues to live outside the clan, no Uchiha will be obligated to teach him anything. He will only have the right to training and lore offered _freely_ by clan members. In addition, I reserve the right to remove him from his mother’s household should she ever prove unfit to raise a child.” 

Hikaku’s mouth closed with an audible snap, and the Senju - Kagami included, his delicate eyebrows beetling over Uchiha dark eyes - all stared. Tobirama made an approving sound. “So he is a Senju still, in all but name. It’s a much wordier version of what I just said.” 

“Extra words to pad the agreement,” Madara replied, waving one hand tiredly. He really didn’t feel like arguing today, even with Tobirama’s subtle digs. “The more that it sounds like they’re hearing, the more likely the elders won’t fuss.” Sadly, this has always been true. Madara only recently was truly beginning to understand it. “I also reserve the right to inspect Kukaku’s home to determine if she’s a fit mother.” 

Kukaku made an indignant noise. “Fight me,” she snapped, but quieted when Tobirama said her name in a scolding tone. “Fine, fuck. Let’s word it different then. If I ever prove detrimental to Kagami’s health and happiness, _then_ you fuckers can take him away, but only then.” 

... He liked her wording better anyway. “Agreed.” 

They haggled for some time on the specific wording of the agreement, and Hikaku sighed disappointedly a lot, but eventually, they walked away with something they all agreed on and Madara knew his elders would take at face value. 

* * *

Once she got over her initial resentment, Kukaku proved his assessment of her right. For one, she was just as young as he had expected, being barely a year past twenty. And Kagami was _seven years old_. If Madara ever found out who the boy’s father was, he would murder him with prejudice. It was even likely that she had lost her arm at around the same damned time that she’d become pregnant, and... 

It just made him so angry, because he knew exactly the sort of people who’d make sport of an injured young girl. Yet, it seemed like the past didn’t bother her at all. Her expressive face went from grin to scowl and back again, as bright as Hashirama, and as sharp as Tobirama. He even had a good laugh when she whipped her prosthetic arm off and beat Hashirama over the head with it at one point, but had looked over at just the right time to see the fond amusement on Tobirama’s face. 

So Madara had mixed feelings about her so far. She clearly had some kind of regard from Tobirama, which was... not something Madara should be jealous of, because whatever this thing between the two of them was, _it was new_. Besides, he wanted to like her. Her attitude was _refreshing_. 

Then there was the brat. When they had met before, Madara had _borrowed_ the team of children that Hashirama and Tobirama spent so much of their extra time on. All six of them. He wasn’t proud that he had defaulted to chucking one of them when they had gotten to be too annoying. Though that had bizarrely led to all of them wanting for him to throw them across the training grounds. 

It had been quite amusing, especially when the Akimichi boy had held up his arms, eyes determined enough to say “This is my time to shine,” before he was tossed right after the others. It had been even more amusing watching Hashirama desperately plucking them out of the air when he arrived, even though the kids had gotten pretty good at landing in the intervening hour. 

Madara wondered why he hadn’t recognized Kagami for an Uchiha then, but it was probably the boy’s exuberance that had disguised him. That and that curly mop of hair. Curly hair wasn’t common in his clan, though otherwise Kagami looked just like one of them. (Specifically, he looked a bit like one of Madara’s long dead older siblings, Kumano. And Madara hadn’t thought of him in a long, long time, but even the hair matched a little.) 

Kukaku and Kagami had accompanied him to their residence, and when he saw it... “I’m judging you,” he told her, and she snorted. Her house was. Memorable, in all the worst ways. “I think I see Hashirama’s hand in this...” 

Kagami stifled a giggle, and his mother snorted. “He proves himself useful sometimes,” she replied, with a big grin. “My taste in decor doesn’t have anything to do with Kagami’s happiness.” 

He dubiously eyed the giant wooden hands - Hashirama’s hands, obvious in a way it would only be to another shinobi - holding up a large banner. “Not unless you count subtle psychological torture,” he agreed. 

Kagami piped up with, “That’s not subtle!” And Kukaku laughed out loud while Madara stifled a snort. Then the boy led the way inside. 

During his inspection, Madara gladly came to the conclusion that Kukaku was a better mother than many of the women he knew. Which was a good thing, because the last place he wanted to see the brat was in the Uchiha creche. Kukaku’s home was neat but lively, and smelled a bit of black powder, sulfur and - oddly - mitarashi sauce, implying that someone in the house ate a lot of dango. 

And by the time he left, he found himself weighed down with a bunch of poorly made onigiri - Kagami’s work, by the looks of it, though he wondered if Kukaku could even make them, considering that she only had one hand. 

His house, when he got home, was as cold and not-quite-empty as ever, and in his collar, Gouawae awoke with a start. The little fox immediately started groaning. “Why does amanojaku bother Madara-sama? Can’t it bother someone else?” 

“I thought it was an onryō,” Madara said, toeing off his sandals. “Unless you’re speaking of something else entirely.” Which wouldn’t be good. A vengeful spirit was more than enough for him. Adding another creature to the mix wasn’t a pleasant idea. 

“It is,” said the fox, drooping listlessly against his neck. “But Gouawae hears what it says. It wants Madara-sama to do a bad thing.” It gave a miserable sigh. “Madara-sama needs a tenko. Gouawae is a great kanko, but is much too small to deal with demons.” 

Madara sighed as well. The tenko were pretty decent, for foxes, but while he could summon them, there was always a higher price than he expected. He wasn’t summoning one until he had little choice. Whatever it was that was in his house didn’t seem to do anything but talk, which he could handle on his own. 

Even if sleep was always difficult to come by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mitarashi sauce: The sauce on mitarashi (grilled) dango (which are those little balls on a stick that you often see Anko eating). It’s made with sugar, soy sauce, water and potato starch. Sounds pretty tasty. I’m going to have to learn how to make dango and try it some day.
> 
> Amanojaku: A small demon that incites others into wickedness.
> 
> Tenko: (lit. “heavenly fox”) A fox that is a servant of Inari.
> 
> As usual, if there's something I didn't explain well, or needs more explanation than is given in fic, let me know, and I'll see about adding it to the notes.


	2. In Which Tobirama Still Can’t Get Things Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s starting to feel like a theme, Madara coming into his home while he’s doing paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically not early. However, I wasn’t really planning on throwing out two chapters less than a day apart, but I’ve been really looking forward to sharing this part. ANYWAY, point I’m getting at, is next chapter might not actually be done by Tues morn. Then again, with how much I’m enjoying this fic, it might.

It took longer than expected, for Madara to break into his house after their talk on Hashirama’s roof. The crisis with Kagami had come and passed, as much as such things do, mostly because Madara was pissed off at his own elders. As it worked in his family’s favor, Tobirama wasn’t protesting it. 

When Madara came in - successfully disarming and rearming the traps in the entryway - Tobirama was doing the same thing Madara usually seemed to catch him in the middle of. Paperwork. For all it kept his clan running smoothly, it was tedious enough that he stopped writing and waited to see what Madara would do this time. 

Much to his surprise, Madara didn’t dither, just sat behind him and slumped against his back, a warm and heavy weight, radiating weariness. After a long moment of still silence, he murmured into the hair behind Tobirama’s ear, “Is this alright? I don’t want to be home right now.” 

Tobirama blinked at his papers, mildly consternated by the simplicity of the request. And a bit disappointed too, considering that he had been mulling over how this was going to go for days, now. “This is all you want?” That would teach him to make assumptions. 

He could feel Madara’s shrug as if it were his own, echoing through the knotted muscles in his back. “I’m tired,” he said, and his voice vibrated pleasantly against Tobirama’s spine. “And I can’t sleep. I thought maybe I could sleep here, because I managed to before.” 

“I... see,” said Tobirama, tone likely conveying how dubious he was about this. Still, he wasn’t one to begrudge someone a good night’s sleep when they make an effort to be respectful. Especially if it was a recurring problem for Madara. “I have an option for you, for the _help_ I suggested previously.” 

Madara hummed questioningly, and Tobirama bit his lip, because it felt _nice_ in a way he wasn’t use to. Not like sex, though there was something sensual about feeling another’s voice in one’s own rib cage, but undeniably good, when accompanied by the utter furnace of Madara’s broad frame. 

Gathering his thoughts went a touch more slowly than usual. “Yamanaka Sora,” and paused at the displeased grunt Madara made. “He’s mostly neutral, in regards to the Uchiha, and so far I’ve found him to be quite honorable in his dealings with the village. At the least, he would be the appropriate person to go to for a basic evaluation.” 

Madara grunted again, then shifted to rest his chin on Tobirama’s shoulder. “He’s always with the Nara, right? In the meetings?” And Tobirama tilted his head to glance at Madara out of the corner of his eye. This close, he could actually see Madara clearly, and wondered how anyone with decent vision could miss the bags under his eyes. “In the ‘quiet corner’?” 

“Yes,” Tobirama agreed, turning back to his paperwork and trying to find exactly where he had stopped writing. Once he did, his pen was back on the paper. “With the Akimichi, Tamotsu. However, he shouldn’t be as difficult to work with as Yasutora. He merely speaks quietly.” 

“Quietly,” Madara snorted, winding his arms around Tobirama’s torso, only to leave them in a loose approximation of a hug. It was... nice, given that a large percentage of the hugs Tobirama had been subjected to were either from children, or were the bone-crushing hugs his brother tended to give. “The man’s a mouse. Always has his eyes on the floor.” 

Tobirama’s lips twitched upward. He wondered vaguely if they were even talking about the same individual. Sora was a dreamy type, but that had never meant spineless in Tobirama’s experience. After all, Hashirama was that way too, and no one would dare think of Hashirama as a _mouse_. “A mouse, is he? Well, then. It shouldn’t be too frightening for you to make an appointment with him, should it?” 

“Who said I was scared?” Madara asked irritably, ducking his face into Tobirama’s shoulder and causing a bunch of his hair to tumble over it, tickling Tobirama’s throat. Then he sighed deeply, but didn’t lift his face. “Why am I even doing this?” 

“Which part?” asked Tobirama. “The weird cuddling, or getting that psych eval? Because I can’t answer the former, but the second...” 

“Shut up,” Madara groaned. And Tobirama was tempted to start pushing again, because with Madara’s voice going deep, the vibration of his chest was even better. “I’ll go in. I’ll do it. Just shut up.” 

Tobirama smiled, but he shut up. It didn’t take long at all for Madara to fall asleep after that, face still pressed into his shoulder and breathing deeply. 

* * *

By the time Madara stirred again, hours later, Tobirama still hadn’t stopped working. He hadn’t even taken a break, because he had found that equilibrium where every movement was peak efficiency, and he barely had to think of what needed to be written next. It had been over an hour since the last time he needed to bring a page closer to his face in order to read the print. 

He didn’t even notice Madara was awake until the arms loosely coiled around him tightened, and he gave a vaguely annoyed grunt. He was almost done, and if he was interrupted now, the rest would take twice as long to finish as it would otherwise. So he did his best to ignore the sloppy kiss pressed against his shoulder, and the way one of Madara’s hands slipped under his yukata, in spite of the way his stomach jumped at the vague scrape of nails against his belly. 

Then Madara let out a sleepy groan that had a bolt of heat shoot straight down his spine. And his voice was thick and throaty, with either lust or sleep, when he said, “You smell delicious.” 

Tobirama dropped the pen, suddenly breathless. “Oh?” 

A hummed agreement, and one of Madara’s hands was plucking at the plain obi that held Tobirama’s yukata closed. “I think about the way you smell all the time,” he murmured, moving just enough to nuzzle up under his ear. “Hmm, and the way you look...” 

“The way I look?” he encouraged, biting his lip. Rationally, he knew there were people who found him attractive, and his experiences with those people were... varied. Some were quite pleasant, all were short-lived, but the attraction was there, even if he didn’t understand it himself. And hearing Madara say it... 

“Mmyeah.” Madara placed an open-mouthed kiss just behind his ear, and Tobirama shivered. “Perfect skin... soft...” Lips moved over the edge of his ear and closed around the lobe with a lazy suckle. “Pretty,” voice breathy, and teeth scraping at Tobirama’s earlobe. “And you feel so good under my hands...” 

Tobirama bit back an undignified sound as Madara’s hands finished with his obi and moved down to drag up his thighs, which fell open at the touch. “Yeah?” He thought that maybe he just discovered a new kink. He licked his lips and melted back against Madara, so that the only thing keeping them upright was their weight against each other. “Keep talking...” 

Madara’s breath hitched, and he let out a rough groan against Tobirama’s throat. “You, ah, like that? Would you like to hear what I want to do to you?” One hand moved up to cup him, and his hips gave an involuntary twitch. “Fuck. Why is it you’re always barely dressed whenever I’m here?” 

“Took a bath,” he muttered, reaching his hand down to thread his fingers with Madara’s over his erection, holding his hand in place as he rolled his hips into the pressure. “Yes. Talk. I want to hear it,” he said, over Madara’s breathless cursing. 

The cursing trailed off into a moan, and Madara shifted position behind him, in order to pull Tobirama up into his lap. “The things I want to do to you, fuck, where to start,” he gasped. “I want to touch you, I want to taste you, I. Fuck. I want to kiss you again, and I want my fingers in you again and again and,” he paused to take in a ragged breath, and his hips jerked under Tobirama, grinding upward while his hand, still tangled with Tobirama’s, closed on Tobirama’s cock. “I want to bite, and leave marks all over you and...” 

Tobirama whimpered, biting at his lip, almost too far gone to care. It was definitely a kink, because as nice as the dry friction on his cock was, it was Madara’s voice, the deep breathy rumble of it, and what he was _saying_ that drove the frisson of pleasure down his spine. His fingers tightened around Madara’s and he guided his hand into a better rhythm. 

“Fuck, I want to suck you off,” Madara groaned, then turned his head just enough to start biting at Tobirama’s throat. “Bend you over the table and eat you out...” Tobirama couldn’t quite stifle his response anymore. He cried out, and his free hand jerked up to fist in Madara’s hair. “Fuck, just pin you there, I could... I could. Fuck.” Madara’s other hand dug into Tobirama’s thigh, and he gasped into Tobirama’s ear, “I want. I want to. Fuck I want to. Can I? Next time, can I?” 

Tobirama choked on a reply, and grit his teeth as his whole body tensed. One more stroke, still too dry, too rough, and he was coming hard, whimpering behind clenched teeth. And Madara let out a shaking breath in his ear, hips grinding desperately against Tobirama’s ass one more time. 

“Fuck, okay. That’s good,” Madara’s voice was little more than a ragged whisper, but even that sent a shiver through him. “So, you like dirty talk, huh?” One of Madara’s hands - the messy one, Tobirama quickly found - dragged up his belly and Madara swallowed loudly. “That’s-” 

“Gouawae will answer the door!” a very small, chirpy voice interrupted. And Tobirama caught a glimpse of something small and orange darting out of Madara’s collar, even as they both reflexively jerked away from each other. The orange thing headed straight for the door, but when Tobirama cast his senses in that direction, there was nothing _beyond_ said door. 

“Madara, what the hell was that?” he asked, retying his obi and straightening out his yukata. He couldn’t believe he had dismissed that small chakra. He had known it was there, and still, the creature had surprised him. 

“Pipe fox,” Madara said, tone strangled. “Oh gods, and I was saying all that stuff... in front of an innocent pipe fox. I really am going to hell...” 

Tobirama blinked. A pipe fox? Since when did Madara summon anything that small? Then he scoffed. “If that really was a pipe fox, your idea of innocent is skewed. There isn’t a fox alive that’s more than a kit and is innocent. Still... Is there any chance I could get a closer look at it?” 

But Madara was making more horrified sounds. “I just remembered. Pipe fox. That means someone’s going to be at the door _any minute_. We need to... You need to get dressed. I... Damnit, it smells like sex in here. Fuck fuck.” 

_Alright, the flailing came back,_ Tobirama thought, holding back laughter. In consideration for what Madara was saying, however, he let his senses reach further, trying to identify anyone heading their direction. Then he cursed when he realized _who_ was coming. “I hope you brought some extra pants. Go use the furo. I’ll... throw open the window and find a different yukata.” And clean himself up too. He wasn’t known for his speed for nothing. 

“You’re going to just. Wearing that little?” Madara’s voice was hitting some interesting pitches. 

“It’s just anija,” he replied, rolling his eyes, and Madara made another noise of horror, before snatching up a bag Tobirama hadn’t noticed him bring in with him, and bolting out of the room. Thankfully, in the right direction. Tobirama stared after him for a moment, then sighed and got to work. 

He would deal with Hashirama exactly as soon as he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! New thing, because apparently, I misspelled furo as fuuro (I've gone in and fixed that). :D And I gave a kinda crappy explanation in the notes..
> 
> Furo: (or, ofuro, which is a more polite way to say the same) is a type of Japanese bath. Often, the entire bathroom seems to be referred to this way. It's basically a great big soaking tub, that's much much deeper than western baths. It also tends to be rather square shaped. It's considered rude to get into the tub without washing first. Another interesting thing about Japanese bathrooms, is that usually the toilet seems to be in a separate room. Wish we did that in the west. :D


	3. In Which Hashirama Needs to be Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara sulks, Hashirama is _really_ annoying, and Tobirama is the only one gaining any amusement out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the thing about the furo was confusing last time, and you read before I updated last chap’s end notes, there’s now a note about furos.

There was something absolutely horrifying about hiding in the furo while his... his what? What was Tobirama? HIs significant other? His lover? Either way, Madara was hiding in the furo while Tobirama met Hashirama at the door, and he was eyeing the water, weighing the advantages of drowning himself. 

Regretfully, he decided it wasn’t worth the attempt, not with an excellent suiton user and sensor only a room away. Even if he managed to damage himself much, Tobirama was also known to be a dab hand with iryo-ninjutsu. So instead he finished washing the come off of his pants and hung them up to dry, then tied his hair into a messy bun and _simulated_ drowning in the furo. 

He cringed down into the water when he sensed Hashirama’s immense chakra heading his way. He wasn’t ready to talk to Hashirama about his and Tobirama’s “arrangement” yet, and with his pants and underwear hanging over a flat surface to dry, he expected he wasn’t going to have a choice. And Gouawae was out there somewhere, and the pipe fox had heard every filthy word out of Madara’s mouth. He couldn’t be more mortified if he tried. 

Although, Hashirama was probably capable of making things worse. 

Hashirama just walking right on in without even knocking managed it. “Hey! You really are in the bath!” the idiot cheered, then made a completely undignified snorting sound. “It looks like you strapped a bush onto your head.” 

Madara shrunk down into the water, scowling, even as one hand reached up to check his hair. From out in the hall, came Tobirama’s voice, dry and biting, “Like you have any right to comment on another’s appearance. Go away anija, before I start making plans on how to make you drink the daimyo’s tea again.” 

At that, Hashirama made a funny face, but Madara’s briefly lived amusement died when Hashirama started stripping. “What the hell are you doing?!” 

“Bath party!” Hashirama cheered, then was echoed by a much smaller voice when Gouawae streaked into the furo, leaping and embedding itself in Madara’s hair. “See, even the tiny fox agrees! This’ll be fun!” 

“I believe anija may be drunk. More so than usual, that is,” Tobirama said, and now that Madara could see him, he could also see the fond exasperation on his face. “I would also like to point out that I tried to stop him. Anija, do you even realize how late it is? Shouldn’t you be attending to your wife?” 

“Did that,” said Hashirama, still inordinately cheery, and the last of his clothes fell away, leaving him in his fully naked glory. Madara slapped his hand over his eyes, while on top of his head, Gouawae giggled like a sugar-high toddler. 

Then there was a confusion of limbs as Hashirama tried to enter the tub, and Madara tried to lunge out - it ended up with him under the water, with Hashirama’s weight holding him down. That. Did not go down well. 

He might have blanked on what happened next, but somehow, twenty minutes later, Hashirama was trying to help him dry his hair out. Tobirama was in the kitchen, ostensibly making tea, but Madara could tell from the look on his face as he had left that he was doing it to avoid laughing in Madara’s face. Back in the furo, there was water _everywhere_ , and Madara might have felt guilty for the mess, _maybe_ , except Tobirama had waved it off, muttering about it happening every time Hashirama was over. 

Madara slumped forward, curling his arms around his legs, while Hashirama tugged and pulled at his hair in some arcane manner that was supposed to help it dry faster. “I just wanted some peace and quiet,” he complained, and Hashirama made a cheerful little noise in the back of his throat in response. “Don’t I deserve a little peace and quiet now and then?” 

“Of course you do,” Hashirama soothed, and patted Madara’s head like he was some kind of _dog_. “Hey, Madara? Do you know who else was here earlier? Tobira won’t tell me.” 

_Tobira?_ Madara wondered. Yeah, that’s what you’d get if you knocked off the second kanji, but it seemed like an odd way to foreshorten Tobirama’s name. He would have gone for Tobi instead. Much more succinct. Better a kite, than _doors_ , no matter the deeper meaning. Then again, that might be his Uchiha raised sensibilities speaking. “No, he was alone and doing paperwork when I got here, and I didn’t ask. Why?” 

The sudden angry aura behind him made him flinch forward. “Because I try to be a good brother, and if he’s seeing someone, I need to make sure they’re worthy.” 

Madara’s mouth went dry in an extremely unpleasant manner. “I... see?” He cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder, and past the long line of his hair, Hashirama’s expression was _chilling_. “How,” he coughed. “How do you plan to do that?” 

Suddenly back to being cheerful, Hashirama replied, “Usually I chase them off before it can get serious. But if it’s too late for that, I wait. I wait for them to fuck up in any way that could conceivably make my baby brother unhappy. And then...” Somehow, trailing off like that, tone all cheerful, made the whole thing sound a lot more disturbing. 

“And uh.” Madara went back to facing forward, hoping Hashirama was being particularly stupid tonight. “What do you do if they fucked up from the start?” 

Hashirama’s fingers tightened in his hair, but his voice _still_ sounded unnaturally cheerful. “Then they die.” 

Maybe he had underestimated Tobirama’s potential anger at him. Having to tell Hashirama that they were in a relationship had seemed... intimidating before, certainly, but not _potentially deadly_. “I see...” 

“Hey, Madara! You should help me find out who it is!” Hashirama said, tugging on his hair. 

“Why would I want to do that?” Madara asked incredulously. Sure, he could give Hashirama misleading clues, but he’d rather not be partner in his own eventual murder. He shuddered when he could _feel_ Hashirama turn the puppy eyes on him, silently pleading for his capitulation. “No. You do realize that that is really invasive, don’t you?” 

And that was when Tobirama saw fit to rescue him, demeanor calm and hiding the glee that Madara could see hiding just behind those sharp eyes of his. “Now, anija, we’ve discussed this,” he said, placing a teapot on the table next to them, carefully placed so that the spout pointed away from them, then the three steaming cups, one near each of them. 

“Genmaicha?” Madara asked, pouting. He knew that nutty smell well enough, but it was never one of his favorites. Kumano, once upon a time, had gone on and on about the health benefits of it - something about it soothing an upset stomach, and having more “energy” than other teas, though Madara was quite certain that even his bancha was more caffeinated. (Kumano would have made a fine kunoichi, Tajima had lamented, once upon a time. Even if his twin sister had taken to the kunoichi arts with a disturbing vivre, Seiryū had still embodied some of the more supposedly masculine shinobi traits far more than her twin.) 

“You’ll take it and enjoy it,” Tobirama said, his eyes taking on a cruel glint as he settled into his usual seat. He reached out and wiggled his fingers at Gouawae, who watched with fascination from Madara’s shoulder. “I wanted to see your pipe fox.” 

“Madara-sama’s pipe fox?” asked Gouawae, head tilted, eyes laser focused on dancing digits. The fox gave out a little gasping noise, and leapt from its perch to the table. “That must be Gouawae! Gouawae is Madara-sama’s best kanko!” And it ran right over Tobirama’s hand to wind between his fingers. “Yako-sama can see Gouawae whenever Yako-sama wants now.” 

Hashirama snorted. “Yako-sama, huh? Hey, Tobira. Little guy thinks you’re a fox too!” 

“I imagine coming from a fox, that’s a compliment,” Tobirama replied, lifting his hand so that he could examine the pipe fox more closely. 

“Gouawae is the best and friendliest kanko,” said the pipe fox. “Does Yako-sama want to look at Gouawae’s cute little ears? Or Gouawae’s adorable little paws? Maybe Gouawae’s soft and fluffy tail? Or does Yako-sama want to look at Gouawae’s long and sinuous body?” 

Tobirama bit back a laugh, and Madara ducked his face into his collar to hide his own smile. “What an adorable little narcissist. How would you like to take a secondary contract, little one?” 

His head jerked back upright in indignation. “Hey, give my summon back!” 

Eventually, Tobirama successfully kicked Hashirama out - not until the tea had long gone cold, but he still managed it. Then he directed Madara to his guest room, and presumably went to his own bed. The guest room was comfortable, more than sparsely decorated, suggesting that Tobirama often had visitors. Still, it was cold and while Madara wasn’t alone as long as he had Gouawae with him, it was still somewhat lonely. 

Which is why, a little more than an hour after he had been banished to the guest room, he got back up. And, tucking a pillow under his arm, made his way to Tobirama’s room. Tobirama made an annoyed noise when Madara crawled into bed with him, but otherwise made no attempt to send him on his way. 

Sleep returned quickly. 

* * *

It wasn’t a sound that woke him. It wasn’t a shadowy presence. It was a stillness, where there hadn’t been one, and it took Madara’s groggy brain longer than it should have to recognize the source. Tobirama had gone completely still, where before, there was the soft rocking motion of his breathing. 

When Madara looked, his heart cringed in sympathy, because he knew that look. Tobirama was having a nightmare. Teeth gritted and face scrunched, his entire body was a long line of tension. Madara debated whether or not he should do anything. There was the chance that if he left it alone, Tobirama would come out of it on his own, but if he didn’t... There wasn’t a shinobi alive worth their salt that wouldn’t react violently, being shaken out of a nightmare. 

Then again, whatever it was, it had to be pretty bad, to affect someone like Tobirama. _”You’re hardly one of the worst things that’s happened to me.”_ That’s what he had said, when Madara was trying to apologize to him. He knew his own horrors, but what kind of horrors must lurk in Tobirama’s mind? 

That was what decided him. That, and the look on Tobirama’s face, scrunched up as though in pain and trying not to scream for it. Madara’s fingers barely glanced off of Tobirama’s flushed cheek, before his wrist was caught in a vice grip. 

The world spun, and his back hit the floor on the other side of the bed hard enough that it knocked the wind out of him. Before he had the chance to react, he was pinned down with a three pronged kunai against his throat, Tobirama looming over him, panting hard and eyes flared wide. “And that’s why speed trumps power,” Madara said wryly. 

Tobirama blinked blearily at him several times before shaking himself. The blade at Madara’s throat didn’t shift a millimeter, even when Tobirama leaned down to scowl in Madara’s face, eyes narrowed in a way that spoke less of aggression than of being only partly awake. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked querulously. 

Madara bit back a grin, and curled a hand around Tobirama’s nape, pulling him down into a kiss. The blade remained perfectly steady, even once Tobirama relaxed, eyes slipping shut and mouth softening against his with a muted groan. It got a little sloppier, when Madara threaded his fingers into Tobirama’s hair from behind. Gently, he wrapped his other hand around the hand holding the kunai, and moved it away from his throat. 

Eventually, Tobirama pulled back, mouth red and slack, eyes barely open slits. “You’re an idiot,” he managed, and licked his lips. Madara just wanted to pull him back down, but Tobirama was already shifting away, pushing off of his chest to stand. Then he just stood there for several seconds, looking down at Madara like he was seeing some strange new creature, and wasn’t sure if it was dangerous or not. “I’m going to...” He licked his lips again. “Tea. I need tea.” 

And he turned and walked out, leaving Madara staring after him, thinking, _Today has certainly started auspiciously._ He was looking forward to the rest of it. Tentatively. Apprehensively. 

Fuck it. Today was probably going to suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I can’t think of anything that needs clarification, but let me know if I missed something!


	4. In Which Tobirama’s Very Tired, Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama has a tedious day, and gives a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I’m doing long ones again. x’D I doubt anyone’s going to complain about that. On the other hand, ugh, I’ve had a hard time writing this week. Hopefully I pep back up soon.  
> It didn’t feel super coherent while writing, and I’m too lazy to really fix it, so heey. I hope you all enjoy it anyway… And this chapter ended up highly introspective for some reason.

The first real clue that he had, since his abrupt wake up, that the day was not going to go well, was when he took the warm teapot that was sitting on the table and tried to pour a cup of tea to clear the fog from his mind, and nothing came out. Frowning, Tobirama tipped it further, long past the point its weight told him should have liquid already coming out. Then, something _did come out_ , but it wasn’t tea. It was orange, and it had a tiny foxish face pointed up at him from the coils of its body. 

Tobirama blinked down at it. Leaned closer to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, only to be assured that yes, there did seem to be a pipe fox in his cup. It didn’t seem to be awake - its tiny tongue was sticking out between its teeth, which were so small that they looked like the tips of fine needles, and its eyes were shut. It was very cute, but he wanted tea. No, he _needed_ tea. 

He spent far longer digging through his tea stash to find something with an appropriate caffeine content than he would have liked, and by the time he had it prepared, he realized that he had _forgotten_ a little promise he had made to himself. Specifically, that he wouldn’t make anything but genmaicha whenever Madara was around. 

Tobirama scowled at the tea - a perfectly good konacha, while not an especially high quality tea, would be utterly wasted on Madara’s palate. It would be rude not to serve it now that he’s made it. Or... he could just stand in the kitchen and drink it there. 

...He wasn’t quite that petty. 

He rummaged up another simple meal - pre-cooked rice, a few pickles, and chilled, grilled fish that was probably left in the ice box by Kukaku - and brought it out with the tea, grimacing at Madara, who was already fully awake for some ungodly reason. The earlier kiss probably wasn’t the reason, but Tobirama’s unconscious throw might have been part of it. 

There was no shame in reacting to Madara’s touch that way. Survival instincts were there for a reason, and if Madara was foolish enough to touch him while he was in the grip of a nightmare... He sat down, silently turning to his meal while Madara muttered gratefulness over not having genmaicha, yet again. 

The nightmare had been a strange one. The usual thematic elements were there, of course: snow stained crimson, a smell like burning flesh. Lord Kyouraku’s head in his hand, held up by the man’s greying hair, and a heavy bag dripping blood in the other, as he shrieked down at the army laying siege... Alright, so perhaps there were more than a few thematic elements. And it may have been less a nightmare than a memory. 

Eating was more difficult than normal, but that was no surprise. Even the fish, usually one of his favorites, was utterly tasteless in his mouth. The kiss had been an excellent distraction for a moment, but reality inevitably intruded. 

Perhaps in deference to Tobirama’s obviously poor mood, Madara remained silent as he ate his portion - though he did make a face again, as if to say, “I know you aren’t poor, so why are you eating like this?” And if he bothered to actually ask, Tobirama might tell him the truth, which was “Laziness.” He saw little point in wasting energy in this aspect of his life. That wasn’t to say he didn’t occasionally enjoy cooking - he spent far too much time learning about baking at his birth mother’s feet to not find some sort of comfort in it. 

Breakfast didn’t deserve the same consideration. 

When it came time for them to go their separate ways for the day, Madara still didn’t say anything. He just reached out and touched Tobirama’s cheek, the touch lingering strangely, before turning and leaving. Afterward, it took Tobirama longer than expected just to make his feet move. 

Being in the office was terrible, too many different chakra signatures crowded around him, making concentration difficult enough without the growing pressure in his skull. Admittedly, he paid Madara’s chakra a bit more attention than he did most, but he had always had reason to do that. And when he felt said chakra go into Sora’s office, Tobirama decided he could use a break and pick up a... gift, so that Madara knew he appreciated his following up on that part of their agreement. 

* * *

He had a lunch meeting with his brother, and while he would have preferred to spend his lunch with Touka, sometimes he had to give Hashirama a bone. If he was lucky, Hashirama would do something to earn his ire, and he would be able to tell him that they weren’t doing it again for a while. 

“It isn’t for you,” Tobirama found himself saying, yet again. He probably should have left the carefully wrapped box in his office, but he had been carrying it ever since he finished wrapping the dark blue paper and gaudy red and white ribbon around it. No, that wasn’t a commentary on who the gift was for. He just figured it was Madara’s favorite colors. 

“But I wanna know what’s inside,” Hashirama whined, sadly stuffing a saucy piece of chicken in his mouth. His pouting was even less effective than usual, surrounding a mouthful of food. Bribes, on the other hand... 

Tobirama was quite tempted by the smell of the grilled sweet potato on offer, but he wasn’t going to divulge the answer that easily. “You need to learn to mind your own business, anija,” he said, and snagged one of the halves. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure.” 

Hashirama made an offended noise, that Tobirama took the bribe but was still refusing to divulge his secrets. “Can you at least tell me who it’s for?” 

Tobirama glanced at the box, blatantly decked out in Uchiha colors. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, around a mouthful of sweet potato. “I feel like I gave that away when I wrapped it.” 

“Tobira..!” Hashirama whined more loudly. “They’re a big clan! It could be for anyone!” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose seemed like the thing to do right now. The headache that the pressure in his head threatened of never quite broke, but he was sure it would, any minute. Especially the longer he had to deal with this. “How many Uchiha do I speak to socially?” 

“None of them?” 

...That was mostly fair. Still, considering that Hashirama had _seen_ Madara at his house the night before, Tobirama was deeply annoyed. “It’s like you don’t even know me,” he grumbled, sneering. 

“I’m sorry!” The whining was getting even louder, and Tobirama decided that yes, he could cite this as a reason to avoid lunches with Hashirama for a while. The sharpness of the sound rang in his ears, and even as he cringed, he could feel the first stab of pain behind his eyes. “I don’t mean to ignore you!” 

“Lower your voice, imbecile,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m sure they heard you in Kaze no Kuni, and you don’t need to attract another mate.” The sweet potato didn’t taste as good as it had when he first took it, but he determinedly worked his way through the rest of it. “If you paid any attention at all, you would know exactly who that’s for.” 

The whining tone was, thankfully, discarded for a strained whisper. “I don’t mean to be so loud...” And Tobirama knew without even looking up that Hashirama was slumped forward over his desk. “I’m just curious, and you never tell me things, so I have to ask, and then you _still_ don’t tell me. Why are you like this?” 

Tobirama sniffed, then deliberately turned his shoulder to Hashirama, instead eyeing the door. They were about to have company, he noted, squinting at the clock sitting above the entrance. The clock held his eyes, something about it was not quite right. “...Anija.” 

“Eh?” Hashirama sat bolt upright so fast that it was obvious he knew he’d been caught out on something. “What? I didn’t do it. Unless I was supposed to, then I did. Why do you sound angry all of a sudden?” 

Well, obviously Hashirama had been up to something. Tobirama glared at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question. If it was something big, his brother wouldn’t spill, but small stuff? Hashirama would babble. 

In the middle of Hashirama’s long and involved confession about his theft of Tobirama’s soaps and lotions (not surprising, Hashirama had been doing that off and on since the formulae were perfected), and how he _was not_ the cause of the trouble in the kitchens... It sounded like the kids picking up henge were using Hashirama’s likeness nefariously. That’s when the visitors arrived, when Tobirama was trying to keep a stern glare and almost failing and laughing in his brother’s face. 

“It’s horrible,” he was saying, when the door opened, after a polite knock. “She completely ignores it when it’s _Kagami_ sneaking in and rifling through the pantry while henged as me, but the second _I_ go in there, she’s all, ‘Go away Butsuma.’ How does she even know it’s me? She’s a _civilian_.” 

Tobirama gave in, in the face of Sora’s baffled look, and laughed. “She’s _talented_ , obviously.” Sometimes he wondered if he picked up his sensing from his birth mother, rather than his father. If she was catching the difference between Kagami’s henges and actual Hashirama - who she only called “Butsuma” when she was annoyed with him - there had to be something to the speculation. “I had to have gotten my natural talents somewhere. You got yours from Mother, but neither of us got anything from Father.” 

“I know,” Hashirama said ingeniously. “All the good stuff Baachan had _skipped him_. It’s like his only job was to spread his genes!” 

Tobirama snorted again, then waved Sora and Madara - who stood in the doorway like a lump - to the two extra seats. “We can roast Father’s memory later. I’ll come over for dinner. For now, we have guests.” 

“Of course,” Sora murmured, glancing up at Tobirama then back down as he took the middle seat - a self-sacrificing move, considering how Tobirama and Madara often acted with each other. Madara didn’t bother to sit, just took up a position near the door, hovering like a vulture in a wig. “I only need a moment.” 

Hashirama gave Madara a confused smile, before giving Sora his full attention. “What did you need, Yamanaka-san?” he asked, smile brightening. When Sora glanced at Tobirama again, he added, “Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of Tobirama... Unless it’s something personal?” 

With that, Sora turned to check on Madara, as though looking for permission to continue. Permission that Madara seemed to give by doing absolutely nothing. “I’ve come in to insist that Uchiha Madara be taken off mission rotation for at least the next two weeks,” Sora said, tucking his hands between his knees, keeping head slightly bowed and his eyes trained on the Hokage’s desk. “Pending a full psychological evaluation. Tobirama, as the one who recommended for him to come see me, what exactly, are the... psychological symptoms you’ve noticed?” 

Tobirama cocked his head at the Yamanaka. “Do you want an itemized list?” 

Madara interrupted. “No, he doesn’t need an itemized list. Sora, you don’t _want_ an itemized list. It’ll be really long, and it won’t tell you what you need it to. Just ask for a brief summary. It’s safer.” 

Sora sat in silence for a moment, blinking. “Uh, yeah, that.” 

A summary, huh? He grimaced, but gamely started, “Unprovoked rages. Violent mood swings. A disturbing lack of self control. Paranoia. Possible suicidal tendencies. Disproportionate responses to events.” Tobirama dug his fingers into his temples, trying to soothe the ache in his skull. “Recall, if you would, how we had to change the plans for the market district when the Nakano changed course.” 

The Yamanaka clan head coughed lightly into one of his hands. “I see. If you want to write out that list and give it to me later, I would appreciate it.” 

“I can do that,” Tobirama agreed, though the thought was daunting, considering that he was actively allowing Madara into his personal space these days. “Mm. On that note: Madara. I have something for you.” 

Madara gave the box - and it’s gaudy ribbon - a dubious look, but slowly took it when it was offered. “...Why is it warm?” 

“Open it, and you’ll find out,” Tobirama replied. “Also, you may as well open it here, considering that anija was getting all out of sorts out of unassailable curiosity.” He could admit to himself that he wanted to see Madara’s reaction first hand. “It’s not something that should be left in the box for long.” 

Madara turned that dubious look to him. “If you say so.” And he unwound the ribbon with precise care, and opened the paper wrapping with similar ease, not tearing it once. “...There’s holes in the box.” He sounded apprehensive, which was amusing enough that it distracted Tobirama from his headache. Madara carefully folded the paper and ribbon together, and tucked them into his pocket. 

By this point, even Sora was watching with unabashed curiosity. Once he opened the box itself, Madara made a small noise - surprise, Tobirama thought, though Madara’s chakra was streaked with something similar to how it had felt the one time a particularly rich merchant woman had just handed him _her baby_. Yeah, Tobirama was getting a kick out of this. 

“Why would you do this to me? I can’t take care of a rabbit?!” In spite of those words, he lifted the rabbit out of the box, and it just blinked at him sleepily. “Where did you even get it?” 

“I have a small rabbit farm,” Tobirama replied. Which was the truth, though slightly misleading. He had many reasons to keep rabbits - some nicer than others - but he rarely actually took care of the farm himself. It was just a source of meat, small animals for experimental use, and the occasional easy gift. “Consider it a therapy animal. Something soft and cuddly to hug when you’re upset.” 

“That’s... actually a good idea,” said Sora. “As a clan, the Yamanaka have noticed that those who keep animals tend to do better, psychologically, after traumas than those who don’t. It’s one of the things the Inuzuka have going for them. The entire clan has dogs.” 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a rabbit?” Madara asked, tone getting ridiculously high - he seemed to be panicking a little, though he had dropped the box to hold the rabbit right. “I’ll end up killing it!” 

Hashirama butted in cheerfully, “Don’t worry about it, they’re really easy to take care of.” 

“There’s a scroll in the box with a manual about rabbit care, and a few basic necessities,” Tobirama added, rolling his eyes. “They don’t require much, and this one has been on a ninken diet, so it’s sturdier than most.” 

Adjusting the rabbit again - while it continued to make placid cud chewing motions, completely unbothered by the shuffle - Madara dug a scroll out of the box, and examined it without opening it. “Okay... Does it... have a name?” 

“No. That’s entirely up to you. It’s part of the attachment process.” 

“A therapy animal, huh?” Madara eyed the rabbit suspiciously. Then he smirked, as though something amusing occurred to him. “That would make it a medicine rabbit, right?” 

Tobirama palmed his face as Hashirama began laughing. “Very funny.” 

Continuing in the same amused manner, Madara said, “I think I’ll name it Killer. Is it a boy or a girl bunny anyway?” 

“Killer?” Sora made a soft choking noise, but his shoulders were shaking. 

“The rabbit is female,” Tobirama replied, glad that Madara was asking questions. Even so... His idea of an appropriate name was suspect. “Are you sure you want to name it that? When you said ‘medicine rabbit’, I was almost certain you were going to call it Jade.” 

Madara frowned thoughtfully for a moment, turned the rabbit in his arm to look at it’s face and said, “Killer Jade. It’s going to be Killer Jade.” 

Tobirama didn’t think he would be giving Madara anything that needed a name again in the foreseeable future... And this whole episode was doing nothing for his head. In spite of the pounding headache, he still ended up resetting the clock before he left Madara and Sora in Hashirama’s clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Odd note: In many cultures it’s considered rude to open a gift in front of the giver, in order to minimize the possibility of hurt feelings if the receiver doesn’t react right.
> 
> On Japanese Foods: Grilled sweet potatoes ( _yakiimo_ ) are extremely popular, as are a lot of other grilled foods. Foods with “yaki” in the name tend to be grilled/fried, such as _takoyaki_ (grilled octopus dumplings), _yakisoba_ (fried soba noodles, often with shredded carrot and cabbage mixed in), _okonomiyaki_ (lit “grilled as you like”, are savory cabbage “pancakes” with a variety of toppings - I’ve heard them referred to as “Japanese pizza”, given that it’s supposedly a variant of the same recipe, that, according to legend, Marco Polo brought to Italy from China which eventually became pizza [though the word “pizza” was in use at least 250 years before Marco Polo was even born]).
> 
> Teas: Konacha (lit “bud tea”) is a midgrade tea made from the leavings of either gyokuro or sencha production. It has a pretty good caffeine rating, for its price. Since it’s a byproduct, it’s relatively cheap, and is often served in sushi shops. Because of that, sometimes it’s called “sushi tea”.
> 
> And just in case: Kaze no Kuni: Wind Country (lit "Land of Wind")
> 
> Missed this time: The Jade Rabbit is a Chinese myth about a rabbit who lives on the moon making medicine (there is, of course, a long and involved story as to _why_ it's making medicine on the moon, but I'll leave that to those who are interested to look up). It's not unlike the story of the rabbit making mochi on the moon, which is one of the reasons why Princess Kaguya is often portrayed with rabbit ears.


	5. In Which Madara Gets Brushies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at Hashirama’s, drinks and an after dinner treat included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally did 2/3 of this in one go a few hours after I posted the last chapter. The rest just didn’t want to come. So the rest was finished less than an hour before I went and posted it. So if there’s anything too weird, blame it on that.
> 
> And since I'm having a road trip this week, next chap may be late. (Who knows? I don't.)

Somehow, Madara got conned into dinner with Hashirama’s family. Along with both his rabbit and Gouawae, who seemed excited about its “new friend”. At first, Madara was concerned that the tiny fox would think Killer Jade was food, given the nature of foxes and rabbits. Instead, the fox had taken to riding her, and Madara decided to leave it at that. 

Dinner was expectedly noisy, even with Tobirama as a buffer. Even when Tobirama was squinting like he had the world’s worst headache, and was trying to ignore it. Hashirama was rarely anything but noisy, and Mito didn’t bother to quiet him, even though she was more like Tobirama. Quiet elegance and poise. 

What he didn’t understand though, was why Kukaku and Kagami were there. Sure, she matched Hashirama for sheer volume, and seemed happy to drink all the sake that went her way. And when they started in on stories about Butsuma, she had her own rude commentary to make. (Madara didn’t. Butsuma had been his father’s enemy, and had died before Madara took over his clan. None of the Uchiha were quite sure how he had died, only that the Senju’s last respects for him were minimal. If nothing else, that said that the man didn’t go out heroically.) 

“...and he didn’t even notice the chickens for two whole weeks,” Tobirama was saying, and the sake seemed to have eased his headache, because he wasn’t frowning quite so fiercely anymore. “The servants were caring for them, but no one seemed willing to remove them from his room.” 

Kukaku laughed so hard she snorted. “Didn’t he blame this idiot for that?” 

Hashirama shrugged, grinning. “And Tobirama kept bringing me all these snacks. Didn’t figure out for years that he was bribing into accepting the blame.” 

“Makes me glad I only have the one,” Kukaku laughed, shaking her head. “None of us kids respected that ass, especially once you guys started really butting heads. Then, you know, there was the shit year, and finally Tobira, just -” she made a sweeping gesture with her hand, crossing her throat. “For the better. He should have left clan matters in Lady Megumi’s hands.” 

Did she just imply that Tobirama had killed his father? That was... disturbing. It also seemed to say bad things about Butsuma, because if Tobirama did that, it couldn’t have been without good reason. Either way, this was the strangest reminiscence Madara had ever heard, and they kept going and going, never seeming to run out of things they could mock the previous clan head with. 

Dinner wound down after a time, and Kagami was put under a blanket while the adults went into the garden with more drinks and dessert - Kagami had eaten his bleary eyed and already half asleep. And for a moment, Madara found himself alone with Tobirama. 

“Alright, I get why I’m here,” he said, tone modulated to avoid getting overheard by a house full of shinobi. “But why is she here? She can’t be Hashirama’s wife. He’s got the Uzumaki. Is she..?” He couldn’t quite make himself ask if she were _Tobirama’s_ wife. If she was, that was just one more thing they needed to talk about. 

Tobirama squinted at him thoughtfully, before his expression cleared, and he gave Madara a little grin. Then he turned and called out, “Hey, Kukaku! Madara thinks we’re fucking!” 

Madara felt the blood rush to his face, even as Kukaku yelled back, “Geez! If anyone around here’s going to do the incestuous thing, it’s going to be you and Hashirama! I’m not on board with that shit!” 

He could hear Hashirama laughing out near the pond, and Tobirama nudged him off the porch. “In case that didn’t clarify things for you, Kukaku’s our sister.” Another bottle of sake was pressed into Madara’s free hand, and Tobirama wove his way to where his brother was sitting. 

Madara adjusted his hold on the rabbit - he hadn’t put Killer Jade down for more than a few minutes at a time since acquiring her - and followed, noting that someone had lit the lanterns on the way out. He found a comfortable place to sit, with the rabbit in his lap, and Gouawae darted out of his collar to try and capture bugs at the edge of the pond under Mito’s curious gaze. 

The tiny fox let out a frightened yelp when Tobirama and Kukaku had a brief scuffle nearby which ended with him tossing her right over Gouawae’s head and into the pond. Madara wondered how he could have mistaken them as anything but siblings before this. 

Other than the noise they were all making, the evening air was peaceful, Killer Jade’s lavender grey fur was soft, and he found himself... thinking, rather than paying much attention to the banter happening around him. In hindsight, he could admit that he had needed to go and see the Yamanaka. Sora had been helpful even, for all that it had been little more than an evaluation. The man had talked with Madara for several hours after the meeting with Hashirama, and had given Madara homework, of a sort. 

Namely, he and Tobirama needed to set some boundaries. Which Madara wasn’t looking forward to, even if he could see the logic of it. There was also telling Hashirama about their _arrangement_ , which. No, he wasn’t looking forward to that either. He didn’t even see why _he_ had to do it. He was pretty sure Hashirama was actually going to kill him when he found out. 

Somehow, it got later and later, and by the time Madara realized the moon was out, there was no way he’d make it home. He was a morose, sodden puddle with a rabbit. “Yer a sweet rabbit, Killer. You don’t judge me...” He worked his mouth a little, concerned that he might be slurring. He might be drunk. “Everyone freaking judges all the time...” 

Gouawae popped up next to his elbow, bright eyes staring up at him. “Gouawae judges,” it said, cocking its tiny head. “Gouawae judges Madara-sama needs a blanket.” Then it darted off, Madara blinking after it. 

True to its word, minutes later, Gouawae dragged back a blanket, which Madara wrapped around himself and the rabbit. “Gouawae’s the best,” he mumbled sleepily, ignoring the pipe fox’s “Gouawae knows!” He picked up the tiny fox and added it to his little nest. “You might judge me, but at least you’re nice about it.” 

He was still mumbling to himself, mostly about how pathetic he was that a rabbit and a pipe fox were better company than he was used to, when he realized that there was another person sitting with him. “Stop being an idiot,” said the person, who turned out to be Tobirama. “You’ve only been as alone as you’ve chosen to be.” 

Madara groaned. “How can you still be so coherent? You were taking shots of _liquor_ with Hashirama, so I know you can’t be sober.” If Tobirama really was sober, Madara vowed to eat his own sandal, because it would violate the laws of the universe. 

“Anija and I are good at faking,” Tobirama chuckled, leaning against the back of Madara’s shoulder only to melt there. “I can barely walk straight. But I meant what I said. If you don’t want to be alone, there are people who would spend time with you. Willingly even.” 

“Are you one of them?” Madara asked, and immediately regretted the question. Considering Tobirama’s position, and the fact that he chose to be there, he shouldn’t even question it. 

“Sometimes,” said Tobirama, sighing against his neck. “I don’t often like people, so you shouldn’t worry about it.” He drew away slightly, making a noise of complaint, and brushed some of Madara’s mass of hair aside before leaning against him again. “Your hair, on the other hand, is something else.” 

“So, I didn’t get the good hair genes,” Madara shrugged. Honestly, he had no idea why he didn’t cut it, most days, except that it _was_ a statement. One recognized by shinobi everywhere as “You won’t get close enough to grab it,” and “even if you can, you won’t live to tell.” 

“If you end up in my bed again,” Tobirama said, lips and breath warm against Madara’s ear, “you aren’t leaving it loose. It’s a hazard.” 

Madara huffed, scrunching up his face. “And just what am I supposed to do with it, huh?” 

“Did your mother teach you nothing?” 

Now that was an insult Madara wasn’t about to stand for! “Mother was busy!” he insisted. And he was even pretty sure it was accurate. She was always busy. Even now. She hadn’t even come back for Izuna’s funeral. He _knew_ she knew, but he hadn’t seen her since. 

“Is that code for ‘you didn’t ask for help’?” Tobirama asked, though Madara was starting to recognize the tone to be teasing. 

“Noooo,” he lied. Because, no, he hadn’t asked her for help, nor did he think he needed it. It was _hair_. Awful hair that was the utmost pain to take care of, but hair nonetheless. 

Tobirama made a disbelieving sound, digging his fingers into Madara’s hair, at the base of his neck. “It’s all tangles,” he complained, when his fingers caught after carding through less than an inch. “I’m going to need a brush, but I don’t want to get up.” 

Gouawae popped out from under the blanket, announcing, “Gouawae will find a brush!” and before Madara could stop it, it was off like a shot. 

“Shut up,” Madara grouched, when Tobirama started laughing behind him. “As the person who _covets_ my pipe fox, you don’t get to laugh when it’s being silly.” 

“Anija’s coming,” Tobirama said, muffling his laughter against Madara’s shoulder. He laughed harder when Madara groaned. “He’s drunker than he looks, too.” 

“Hey!” Hashirama cheered, and when Madara peered up at him, he did indeed look pretty drunk. Scowling, Madara hunched further into his blanket. He wasn’t up for Hashirama’s level of cheerfulness. “It’s getting pretty late. Mmmwe were thinking you could stay! With me and Mito!” 

“Excuse me?” Both Mito and Tobirama’s voices spoke at the same time. And they both recoiled slightly, surprised. Tobirama was the one to continue, and Madara could see his pout from the corner of his eye. “Madara’ll stay with me. Two to a room. That sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?” Hashirama looked doubtful, and opened his mouth to protest, but Tobirama merely repeated himself, pout turning into a scowl. “ _Doesn’t it_?” 

Mito took up where he left off, giving Madara a curious look. “Kukaku and Kagami, Tobira and Madara, anata and I. It sounds perfectly reasonable, doesn’t it, my husband?” 

Hashirama wilted humorously, but allowed himself to be shuffled to bed. “Why doesn’t anyone understand... I just want everyone I love in my room... so we can cuddle...” His voice was cut off once Mito finally managed to get him inside. 

“Is he serious?” Madara asked. He was drunk, but he wasn’t drunk enough for this shit. 

“Sometimes I wonder...” Tobirama murmured, relaxing against his shoulder again. 

Then they both jumped at the sound of Hashirama yelping inside the house. “Mito, I just got attacked by a brush!” And Gouawae skittered out to them, dragging a brush. 

“Very cute, little one. I’m sure we’ll put it to good use,” Tobirama snickered, taking it. “Although, I think we best get inside, before it gets much colder.” They helped each other to their feet, Madara tried not to drop Killer Jade - who he’d almost forgotten, much to his horror - and made their way inside. 

Once they were in the guest room, Tobirama helped him set up the cage that was in the scroll - along with food, bedding, and a weird water bottle that had a strange looking spout on the end. They were just drunk enough that this was more complicated than it should have been. When Gouawae got stuck in the cage with the Killer Jade, Madara declared, “Fuck it!” and left the fox to spend the night with the rabbit. 

There was, of course, only the one bed, but Madara was more than fine with that. Tobirama, on the other hand, apparently had meant what he said about Madara’s hair, because as soon as he was done fiddling with the door, he returned with the hairbrush raised threateningly. Madara quickly decided it wasn’t worth fighting over and submitted to getting his hair pulled for however long it took for Tobirama to give up. 

It didn’t take long for Tobirama to exclaim in frustration, though he hadn’t even truly _pulled_ yet. “Give me a minute, I need to get something.” He slipped back off of the bed, only to come back a couple of minutes later with a jar in his hands that looked suspiciously like one of those lotion jars Madara kept finding around his house. 

“Hey, you better not be putting that shit in my hair,” he complained. “It’s like _butter_.” He subsided with a whiny huff when Tobirama shoved at him, and resigned himself to having to properly wash out his hair tomorrow, and all the trouble that entailed. 

“You’ll appreciate it once I’m done,” Tobirama told him. “Now be quiet.” 

Grudgingly, Madara behaved himself. At first, he could barely feel what Tobirama was doing - nothing like those times when Madara went through the entire painful process of brushing it out himself. Eventually, he started to feel the occasional tug, but nothing painful. It was rhythmic, and oddly soothing. 

“Why do you keep it long if you can’t be bothered to take care of it?” Tobirama asked, around the first time the brush got all the way through his hair to lightly scrape at his scalp. “All these split ends...” 

Madara couldn’t even form the necessary words to answer. On the next stroke, he relaxed into the pull and tug and was rewarded with another scrape, firmer than the last. That felt way better than it had any right to. Tobirama said something else, but Madara had stopped listening. Instead, he was just... letting himself enjoy it. 

There was a quiet noise behind him that might have been amusement, but since Tobirama kept running the brush through his hair, Madara didn’t care. It grew obvious, after a while, that there were no more tangles left, but Madara wasn’t about to complain - also, this was the first time in years he had felt a brush go through his hair with no resistance. 

“Did you make some kind of pact with a demon?” he asked hazily and Tobirama snorted, finally putting the brush down in order to separate his hair into three sections, which he then tugged rhythmically, weaving them together. 

“Why would I do that? I keep my hair short. If you knew how to care for it, this wouldn’t be a problem.” With one final tug, Tobirama tied the end off, and tossed the thick rope of a braid over Madara’s shoulder. “Don’t turn your head violently, or we’ll have a _real_ problem.” 

Madara gave himself a shake, then turned to face Tobirama. “And how does it look?” he asked, and Tobirama made a face at him. 

“Strange,” he said, lips quirking into a wry smile. “Not bad, but I admit, you don’t look like yourself. I’ll just be happy not to choke on your hair tonight.” 

“...Right,” Madara murmured, remembering what he had been planning. “I wanted to talk before. You know. Sleeping, or whatever.” 

Tobirama rolled his eyes and dropped backward onto the bed. “How eloquent of you. Do you think you’re sober enough? Or awake enough?” 

“It’s either now or in the morning,” he sighed, and since Tobirama was already laying down, Madara turned over onto his hands and knees and crawled up over him before letting himself fall. Tobirama grunted on impact, but other than baring his teeth briefly, made no protest over the action. Not that he should assume a lack of protest actually meant something. 

“Have at,” Tobirama replied. When Madara looked, his eyes were half-mast, though trained on Madara’s face. “If I fall asleep, you weren’t riveting enough.” 

Madara grimaced at him, then pulled himself up to rest his chin on Tobirama’s chest. “I was planning on doing something else first, but I’m too sleepy, so I’ll just say the important part: Sora says we need to establish boundaries. Because I can’t... just do whatever and have it be okay. And neither can you, because if you manage to hit a sore spot, I’m going to...” 

“React badly?” Tobirama asked, still watching him. 

“Yeah. So, basic shit. You need to tell me when you aren’t okay with things,” and at this point Madara found that it was getting much harder to actually meet Tobirama’s eyes, so he closed his own, “and I have to respect that. And I need to... figure out how to make sure you know how to avoid those sore spots.” 

Tobirama didn’t respond right away, and when Madara cracked open an eye to check on him, he was staring into space, deep in thought. “The guest room,” he eventually murmured, “in my house. I rarely have reason to be in there, so... you can assume if I’m in there I want to be left alone. For now.” 

“That seems fair,” Madara agreed. “As long as you don’t take to haunting it. And you’ll tell me if I push too far, right?” 

“In what sense?” 

“Sex comes to mind.” Madara reached up and traced the red mark on Tobirama’s chin, only realizing that he was still wearing his gloves when he saw the stark black leather against skin nearly white in the low light. “I guess there’s other ways that can be taken, too, but... considering what I did before, I need for you to _tell me_ if you want me to stop. I’ll... I’ll probably fuck up and ignore the signs otherwise.” 

Instead of replying, Tobirama wrapped his hand around Madara’s, halting his reach for one of the marks on Tobirama’s cheeks. It didn’t stop him from touching the edge of Tobirama’s mouth, which had more of a curve to it than Madara was used to seeing yet. “What are you doing?” 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

Tobirama’s fingers tightened around his, and drew them to his lips. “No,” he murmured against the tips of Madara’s fingers. Even through the leather, Madara could feel the warmth of his breath. “But you can keep asking, if you like.” 

Madara’s fingers twitched against Tobirama’s lips. The contrast between black leather and pale flesh was utterly fascinating. “Right,” he said, voice rougher than he intended, almost a growl. “You like it when I talk, don’t you?” 

Tobirama’s mouth fell open on a hitched breath, face flushing and eyes going hazy as he hummed in approval. Then he tugged Madara’s hand closer to wrap his lips around Madara’s gloved fingers, and Madara let out a helpless groan. 

“Fuck. That’s just.” He managed a laugh that was closer to a whimper, and almost choked when Tobirama sucked hard. “Gods, that’s a good look on you,” he breathed, dragging his free hand down to Tobirama’s hip and cursing in realization. This time, they were both fully dressed, and that was a tragedy. 

That earned a muffled sound of amusement from around from around his fingers, and Madara retaliated by biting down on Tobirama’s chest, in spite of the cloth barring him from skin. The sound faded into a groan, and beneath him, Tobirama squirmed, mouth working around his fingers as he swallowed. 

Madara nuzzled his way up Tobirama’s throat and nipped at the skin there. “I’d like to see your mouth on my cock.” He tugged his fingers back, like he was going to pull them out of Tobirama’s mouth, and when Tobirama followed, hand tightening around his, he thrust them back in, deeper than before. Groaned when Tobirama whimpered and choked and sucked harder, pressing his tongue between Madara’s fingers. “Fuck. Still want to eat you out. But, fuck, your face right now. I just...” 

He kissed the corner of Tobirama’s mouth, stretched taut around his fingers. “I’ve been wanting to see your face when you come. So just...” With his other hand, he guided Tobirama’s thighs to wrap around his hips, and ground down against him. “Like this,” he groaned against the edge of Tobirama’s mouth, rocking his fingers in shallow thrusts that had Tobirama whining desperately. 

“Just like this. I’ll...” Kiss and grind, and fuck that felt good. Tobirama’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and his thighs were tightening rhythmically around Madara’s hips, even as he matched each roll of the hips. “Keep your mouth busy, and you just... God’s you’re beautiful like this. That’s it. Come on. All I want right now is to see you come.” 

Tobirama cried out, voice cut off by the fingers in his mouth, and twisted wildly under Madara, eyes fluttering as he tried to suck in air around Madara’s fingers. “That’s it...” Madara murmured, watching his expression raptly. Then Tobirama’s thighs tightened convulsively, and he made one last choked whimper before relaxing under him, his hold on Madara’s hand loosening, and his jaw going slack. 

Madara slowly removed his fingers from Tobirama’s mouth, allowing them to drag against his tongue and tug at his lips along the way. Even now, Tobirama followed his fingers as he took them away, so Madara leaned in and kissed his lax mouth until he made sleepy but pleased noises in the back of his throat. 

Madara groaned into Tobirama’s mouth and shoved his hand into his pants to fist his erection. The drag of wet leather on his cock had him shivering, but... along with Tobirama’s lazy attempts to kiss back, it was more than enough to tip him over the edge. There was a moment where it was all he could do to breathe into the kisses still being pressed against his mouth. 

He’s pretty sure he fell asleep between one kiss and the next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything that needs explaining, don't be afraid to holler!


	6. In Which Tobirama Didn’t Really Want to Get Up Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because they’re hungover doesn’t mean there aren’t still things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know how I managed to finish this chapter in time. I didn’t even start it until some hours before I’d normally post. The road trip took three whole days out of my week (one for driving [literally spent 24 hours in a car and drove for prob 18 of it, and was awake for 12 hours beside that from the day before] and two for making up for lost sleep). And while it was fun, I’m beginning to think I’m not young enough for that kind of thing anymore.
> 
> Anyway, next chapter may be late, depending on how on track I feel.

Tobirama awoke smashed down in that awkward place where Heaven and Hell meet. His mouth was parched, his head pounded and his eyes were crusted shut from a sake fueled night’s sleep. All he could smell was stale sake, stale sex, _Madara_ and leather. At the same time... 

There was a heavy weight laying between his legs and a certain part of him definitely approved, in spite of the protests made by the rest of his body. He squirmed, just to enjoy the sensation, only to find that his clothes - which were perfectly serviceable last night - were just as crusty as the corners of his eyes. It didn’t put much of a damper on the vague arousal he’d woken with, only gave it an uncomfortable edge. 

He’d finally decided to just slow bump and grind against the warm body laying on him when Madara’s arms tightened around him, causing him to still. Madara huffed out a helpless laugh, and complained breathily, “I haven’t been this horny this often since I was a teenager.” 

Tobirama snorted. “New relationship. It’s what seems to happen.” 

“Is that what it is?” Madara asked, burying his face against Tobirama’s neck. One hand traveled down Tobirama’s backside, to grip the back of his thigh, and Madara murmured into his ear, “Do we have time for this? Or...” 

“Anija’s still sleeping,” he replied, and dug his fingers into the thick braid he had put into Madara’s hair, pulling Madara’s head back to expose his throat. Leaned up and pressed his lips into the soft skin under his jaw. “So we have some time yet.” 

“Do we?” Madara breathed, only allowing the pull for a moment before tilting his head back down for their lips to meet. He groaned into Tobirama’s mouth when Tobirama deepened the kiss. 

It was perfect. Tobirama pulled back just enough to suck on Madara’s lip for a moment before pushing back in, swallowing another pleased sound. They rocked together lazily, lips only parting occasionally for breath, or sometimes a word. And when the pace grew rougher, Madara abandoned his mouth to kiss his way back down to Tobirama’s ear. 

“When we have time,” he gasped, digging his fingers into the backs of Tobirama’s thighs, “I’m going to, fuck, use my tongue and my fingers, and I’m going to... Fuck. I’m going to see if I can make you scream.” That sounded intriguing, so Tobirama made an encouraging noise in the back of his throat. The next words came out in a blissful rush, “Then I’m going to fuck you so hard you feel it for days.” 

Now _that_ sounded good. “That better be a promise,” Tobirama managed, thighs tightening around Madara’s hips and fingers clenching in Madara’s hair and rumpled robe. “Harder.” 

“What?” 

“Your hands. Harder,” he ordered, and Madara’s fingers clenched bruisingly tight, pulling him closer. The pain mixed with the lazy pleasure of their rutting together was just enough to send him over the edge, and he muffled a cry behind clenched teeth. 

They lay together for a while longer, kissing off and on, with Tobirama keeping a metaphorical eye out for any changes in the household, just enjoying the closeness. Eventually, however, Madara sighed and pointed out their condition. “We’re disgusting. And if we’re going to make ourselves presentable for breakfast...” 

Some time later, they were as clean as could be expected, and the room was airing out. And in spite of having a vague recollection of having less outright disturbing dreams - chasing Hashirama for miles and miles with several sticks of mitarashi dango as a weapon, and never seeming to be able to get any closer to him didn’t exactly count as a bad dream - and following up a good night’s sleep with an orgasm... Tobirama still felt like shit. 

Breakfast, if it was possible, was even more surreal than his dream. For one, he and Madara were the most put together people at the table, and Madara was wearing his clothes. And had consented to Tobirama fixing the braid from last night, so he really didn’t look like himself. 

Kukaku had grass in her hair, and looked as though she had slept in the mud next to the pond. Kagami... well, he was as cute as ever, and had marks all over his face from sleeping face down on brocade. That seemed to prove Tobirama’s assumption that Kukaku never came in last night. 

Mito had sex hair. She hadn’t even bothered to tie it up. Hashirama, however, was the worst. He looked like he’d been hit by lightning at some point, and was staring at Madara as though he couldn’t figure out why there was a stranger in his house. A stranger that no one else was bothered by. 

“Alright, I give in,” Hashirama announced, waving a slice of yellow mellon in Madara’s direction. “Who are you?” 

“What the hell..?” Madara started to say, already beginng to bristle - though his hands immediately sought out the bunny, which was a good sign, as far as Tobirama was concerned - and Hashirama interrupted him. 

“ _Madara?!_ ” And brought up his hand in the classic one handed dispell, and yelled, “Kai!” 

Madara settled back down, with an utterly dumbfounded look, having pulled Killer Jade up to his chest. “...the fuck. Hashirama, what the hell is wrong with you. I’m not even in disguise. What part of reality are you trying to reject this time?” 

“Note to self,” Tobirama murmured, smirking. “I’m going to have to remember that one.” 

Kukaku waved her chopsticks in their direction. “Fuck you all,” she said. Then, “And what do you mean, you aren’t in disguise. If I didn’t know your chakra, it’d’ve fooled me. Gods it’s too early for this shit. I wanna go home...” 

“Nothing’s stopping you, Kukaku,” Mito pointed out mildly. 

“The fucking sun is.” 

“Mom, it’s okay if we go,” Kagami piped up. 

Madara huffed. “Stop faking it kid. We all know you can’t actually be that cute.” 

Kagami made a face at him. This would be far more entertaining if it weren’t for Tobirama’s terrible hangover... At least he wasn’t alone in his pain. 

* * *

Somehow, Tobirama actually made it to his office. On the plus side, he actually got Hashirama to work as well. Madara heading to his own office was another bonus, as was the confused reactions he got along the way when a surprising number of people didn’t recognize him. The hair, it seemed, was a big difference. Which Tobirama supposed makes sense. The man didn’t look nearly so massive with it tamed. 

His day had barely started when an office flunkey came for him, with a message that he was needed in the Hokage’s office. For Hashirama to be calling on him so soon, it could only be something serious, so he went without complaint. 

“I’m sending you out to the Kyouraku Province,” Hashirama told him, with a regretful grimace. “The Hyuuga are finally calling for parlay, and even if Madara weren’t taken off active duty, he wouldn’t be the best person to send. If you can, bring Fuuko with you - she’ll disarm them by, you know, being herself, and you’ll have effective backup. I’d also like you to take Sasuke and Yasutora.” 

That was going to be an interesting line up, Tobirama mused. His mother’s dopey oldest daughter, _Yasutora_ of all people, the middle aged and enigmatic Sarutobi Sasuke and himself? It was obvious that Hashirama wasn’t expecting this to go well, and Tobirama trusted his judgement. The Hyuuga were some of the last holdouts of the civil war, refusing to accept that Lord Hanshin, the former daimyo, had been deposed in favor of his son. 

It seemed safe enough to banter while reading over the mission details, so Tobirama started with “Cockblocker.” Because he was really looking forward to the culmination of Madara’s little promise. 

Unsurprisingly Hashirama recoiled. “Oi! I called you in here for a serious mission! Any personal benefits are completely unrelated. And hey, that’s two people off of my list!” 

“Please,” Tobirama snorted. “You don’t know my type at all. With Yasutora, I’d have to do all the work, and the man has no bite.” Some people who liked to speculate about such things thought that maybe the Nara practiced shadow bondage, but Tobirama suspected that the man didn’t lead a very exciting sex life. “And Sarutobi’s a bit older than I’d prefer. Hmm. But I suppose that there’s something to be said for an older man...” 

Hashirama made a sound similar to “gerk,” then flailed his hands in Tobirama’s direction. “Just go. I don’t actually want to know what you like. By the way, Yasutora already knows about the mission, so he’ll meet you at the gate.” When Tobirama didn’t move immediately, he gestured pointedly, pouting. “Go.” 

Tobirama rolled his eyes, but went. 

It took him only a minute to pick up mission supplies, and he grabbed Fuuko’s when he went to collect her. She groaned and moaned about getting woken up, but got ready as efficiently as he could expect, waiting to brush the crustiness out of her own eyes until they were on their way. Sasuke was more efficient, but had a good decade on them to have gained said efficiency. 

“This looks promising,” the man said, eyeing the two Senju. “Who else do we have?” 

“Yasutora,” Tobirama replied dryly, and silently agreed with Sasuke’s grimace. 

“You look like you feel like I do,” Fuuko commented, shoving a fistful of tangled blonde hair out of her face. “Have a party last night?” 

“I was at anija’s,” he said, keeping his tone even enough that it shouldn’t be obvious how he really felt about last night - because he knows he enjoyed it. The family time, the drinking, the weirdly domestic thing with Madara’s hair. Drunken clothed sex. He had had a good night. “It was fun. I threw Kukaku in the pond.” 

“She probably deserved it,” Fuuko replied brightly, starting to finger comb her hair as they headed for the gate. 

“I’m sure she did,” he agreed, though he didn’t remember exactly why he had done it. Kukaku got pretty vulgar when she drank, so it was a likely assumption. Beside him, Sasuke sighed judgementally, but didn’t actually say anything. 

Yasutora joined them without a word, though he did eye Fuuko strangely until she readjusted her top so that her boobs weren’t falling out. She continued working on her hair as they picked up speed, a pair of bladed kazari kanzashi held between her teeth. By the time they crossed the river, she almost looked like a lady... Which had required a complete change of clothes. 

Fuuko showed the more humorous side of the wind element. Given the chance, she was lazy as possible. But when she must do things, she does them on the run, and somehow, she makes it work. It was just as well that she and Hashirama didn’t spend much time around each other. 

Tobirama would have been offended by Sasuke’s interest in the proceedings if he were more like his older brother. As it was, in counterpoint to Yasutora’s radiating concern, he was amused, instead. 

Fuuko could take care of herself quite well, and if anyone thought to touch her when she didn’t want it, they would learn how easily she made wind blades. She knew more wind techniques than anyone else he knew, and she barely needed to form seals in order to use most of them. 

The specified location was nearly a day away by most shinobi’s standard, though this group proved to be quite a bit faster in spite of Tobirama’s reservations about Yasutora, and it was none too surprising that there were already several Hyuuga waiting for them. One in particular stood forward, shoulders set, but manner strained. 

“Welcome,” he said. “I am Hyuuga Hakurou. I assume you’re here in regards to our petition to end hostilities and join the daimyo’s shinobi?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kazari kanzashi: Kanzashi, or hairsticks, made entirely of metal, usually gold or silver. Also the type that seems most likely to be easily turned into a hidden weapon. They also tend to be a little more expensive, because of the metal crafting that goes into their make.
> 
> Also, points if you caught Kagami’s stupid pun. :D
> 
> Beyond that, the usual: If there’s anything I missed that needs explanation and I’m too much of a doofus to have realized it, just let me know!


	7. In Which Madara is Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he tries to socialize, to varied results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me repeatedly get the chapter done in the last few hours before posting. ;.; If there’s any major mistakes, this is probably why. I should also warn that there’s a little bit of a cliffhanger, so if you don’t want to deal with that, you should wait until Saturday’s chapter to read.

Madara’s morning was surreal, though not unpleasantly so. There were a ridiculous number of people that just didn’t recognize him before he spoke, between the braid, the bunny and the fact that he was still wearing Tobirama’s clothes. He wasn’t used to wearing anything that left him feeling so exposed. He wouldn’t think to complain about how it looked on Tobirama - in spite of being paler than any Uchiha, the man wore sleeveless kimono shirts fearlessly. 

...He had to have some kind of secret to avoid getting burned. 

He had a daily appointment with the Yamanaka, and it was on the way to that that he was accosted by a certain tree hugger. Hashirama latched onto him like an octopus, cheering nonsensically. “I’m not a tree,” Madara complained, pushing at him with his free hand; the other was occupied with Killer Jade and a sleeping pipe fox hanging around the rabbit’s neck like an open collar. “If you smash the bunny, I’m going to have to kill you.” 

Hashirama released him with a chuckle, wiping at his eyes as though tearing up. “I was looking for you! Since you and Tobira have been spending so much time together -” Madara felt his eyes widening in alarm, “I thought that I should let you know that I had to send him out this morning!” 

“Spending so much time together?” he asked dumbly. 

“You know, at his house, in the guest room. He even let you borrow his clothes!” Hashirama grinned at him and patted his shoulder. “You guys have been really getting along lately! I’m happy for you!” 

“Hap-py?” Madara’s voice cracked. 

Hashirama nodded cheerfully. “Yeah, you and Tobira both need more friends, and it’s great! Because it’s my best friend and my brother!” 

Oh. Friends. Hashirama meant that he thought they were _friends_. “Get back to work,” Madara told him. “Wait. Sent him out? _Where_?” 

Hashirama’s grin gained a nervous edge. “Well... Uhm. The Hyuuga...” 

“ _What_!?” The shout echoed in the hallway, drawing the attention of the less wary. “You sent him to deal with _them_? You may as well tie a stone around his neck! I don’t give a shit how fast he is, the Hyuuga are fanatical! Even _I_ gave in after that... Bad example. The fact that they’re still refusing to recognize Lord Hakuoh as daimyo says most of what needs to be said!” 

“Ehr... Not in the hall, Madara,” Hashirama murmured. “Besides, it’s not like I sent him alone. He’s got the Nara head and Sarutobi with him, as well as one of my clan’s best infiltration specialists. If things don’t go well, they can handle it.” 

Madara glowered at him. While it sounded like Hashirama decided on a good team for the situation, he still didn’t like it. “Go away Hashirama. I can’t deal with you right now. No. Don’t say anything. Just go.” Hashirama slumped dejectedly, and opened his mouth - only to cringe when Madara just raised a hand and pointed toward his office. “I’m sure you have things to do. And so do I.” 

Hashirama dragged his morose aura with him when he walked away, and Madara let out an aggrieved sigh, reaching up to press between his eyes. When he turned back to his previous path, he saw Sora peeking out of his office. The Yamanaka blinked up at him. “Weren’t you supposed to tell him something? Or did you already do it? Because I can think of more obvious ways to announce your intentions, but I’d be hard pressed to do so.” 

“What?” 

“The clothes,” Sora said. “Of course, you could just be trying to take control of your life by changing your appearance. If so, more power to you. Are you coming in here or not?” 

* * *

There wasn’t much that needed to be done, without being on active duty. Sure, there were his duties to his clan, but that mostly amounted to a bunch of paperwork. Paperwork that, while tedious, didn’t take all that long. Now he was at loose ends and both bored and oddly despondent, knowing that Tobirama was completely out of reach. 

Knowing that Tobirama was out of the village, it felt weird to actually spend time _in_ his house. Which was why he ended up laying on the porch with a half eaten daifuku mochi, a pipe fox and a rabbit, wondering why anko was so popular in sweets. He had nothing against it, it just wasn’t one of his favorites. He held up the rest of it in offering, knowing that pipe foxes are pretty fond of both mochi and anko, and in one bound, Gouawae snatched the chewy cake right out of his hand. Then enthusiastically set to chewing through it. 

Madara wished the creature luck. Personally, he wanted something with meat in it. Beef would be appreciated. Gyudon especially sounded good. But he wasn’t hungry enough to leave. Leaving meant... something. He didn’t even know anymore. Maybe if he left, it meant he had to go home, and if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was that. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t lurk forever without coming to someone’s notice. Why it had to be that severe faced woman who was often working with Hashirama’s wife, he didn’t know. But there she was, looking down on him like he was something particularly nasty that she was trying to figure out how to remove from the bottom of her sandal. 

“What do you want?” he asked, caught between scowling and pouting. Because damnit, he had every right to be here, pathetically cuddling a rabbit on Tobirama’s porch. 

“My little cousin’s out of the village,” she said. “And I have an agreement with him to make sure everything is in order. What are _you_ doing here?” 

“Does it matter?” he grouched. Then blinked when he heard a coughing noise from near his elbow. Gouawae was hacking up the last piece of the mochi it had eaten, likely having swallowed it too fast. Once it was done, there was a little glob of white and dark red sitting on the porch in front of it, as it cleaned itself. “Lovely. Are you going to clean up after yourself?” 

Touka dropped into a crouch to get a closer look at the pipe fox. “Huh. I wasn’t sure if my leg was being pulled, but you really do seem to have a pipe fox. Interesting.” Gouawae turned its head and blinked bright eyes at her. “So. You aren’t going to tell me why you’re lurking on my little cousin’s porch while he’s out of the village?” 

Put that way, it sounded pretty pathetic. “Why should I?” 

She snorted. “Fine. Then you’re paying for dinner. Get your lazy ass up and get moving.” 

Madara finally sat up at that. “Oi. Watch your tongue, devil woman. Why the fuck would I buy your dinner?” 

“Because you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being who’s so fucking lonely that he’s haunting my cousin’s empty house.” 

She might have a point, but Madara was _not_ conceding it. “I may be pathetic, but I’m not paying for a leech’s meal.” 

Somehow, she chivvied him and Killer Jade up from the porch, and they were still arguing over him paying for food when they reached the restaurant (his choice, and at some point walking he had decided that oden was preferable to gyudon). 

Even when they got the bill, they were still arguing. 

* * *

Madara didn’t know how it had turned out to be a decent day. He hadn’t even really known Touka before their shared meal. Which he ended up paying for, because it turned out that she really was a leech. The argument had been fun, though surreal. 

He’d been thrown off upon finding out that she already knew about him and Tobirama. And she told him, around a fishcake, that she really didn’t care as long as he didn’t hurt Tobirama. “He’s his own man. And sure, he makes some shitty choices sometimes. You’re probably one of them. But they’re his choices. Watch out for Hashirama though. The last guy who spent more than a weekend in Tobirama’s bed ran away to Mizu.” 

That didn’t make him feel any better about the fact that at some point he was going to have to tell Hashirama about their relationship. She laughed at him when he told her about that particular stipulation on their relationship, but was kind enough not to ask what he did to deserve it. 

It was with a full belly and a good amount of cheer that he returned home... only to find, as soon as he sighted his front door, that he _really_ didn’t want to be there. So he fished around for some kind of excuse to avoid it, and thought, _Hikaku. I haven’t really talked to Hikaku since the Kagami incident. That’s not right, is it? I should be checking on Hikaku all the time, since he does so much work for me._

And he turned around, rabbit in arm and fox in his collar - hair still braided from the night before and the subsequent redo in the morning, though he had at least thrown an indigo robe over Tobirama’s clothes. Although he would never admit it, he rather liked wearing Tobirama’s clothes. Sure, they didn’t look right on him, but... They smelled like Tobirama, which was reason enough to keep wearing them. 

He debated just walking in, when he reached Hikaku’s place, but eventually decided to knock and put on a polite smile. Understandably, Hikaku was a bit freaked out when he opened the door to find Madara standing there, politely waiting for him. And smiling. “What..? Why? Madara-sama, what are you doing here?” 

“Spot inspection,” Madara announced, adjusting his hold on Killer Jade, and slipped past his clansman, who squawked almost like Izuna used to. 

“Madara-sama, I was in the middle of cleaning...” Hikaku sounded more longsuffering than anything else, so Madara ignored the protest. Humorously, Hikaku looked as though he had been doing just that. He had an apron on, and a scarf holding his hair out of his face, and a mop in his hands. 

“Did you know that Hashirama and Tobirama have a sister?” 

“What..? No. Since when do they..?” Hikaku stuttered to a stop, and just stood there for a moment, looking utterly bewildered. “Why do you have a rabbit? And a pipe fox? Madara-sama, you of all people should know better than to keep a pipe fox.” 

“Gouawae’s on a diet,” Madara replied, shrugging. He assumed that said diet would keep the fox from multiplying and it’s... descendants from voraciously eating everything in sight. “The rabbit was a gift. For therapy. It’s my medicine rabbit. So. Hashirama and Tobirama’s sister. Kukaku.” 

Hikaku blanched, nearly dropping the mop he had been dragging along with him. “Ku... wait. You mean... that brat’s mother?” 

“Yes. And wouldn’t you know it, but Hashirama’s as protective of his family as I was!” Madara grinned, knowing it was a kind of demented look. He expected exactly what conclusion Hikaku would take from this. “And Kagami’s his _nephew_.” 

“I. Madara-sama.” Hikaku blinked repeatedly, then started again. “I. Thank you, Madara-sama. For not following the elders’ wishes.” 

“Do you need to hold the bunny?” 

“I. Yeah. That would be nice.” 

Madara ended up spending the evening helping Hikaku clean his house. 

* * *

Then it came again. He tried to go home, only to find that he _really, really_ didn’t want to go in there. Still. Where else could he go in order to avoid it? 

That’s what he asked himself, and ten minutes later, he asked himself again why he had chosen Kukaku’s place. Even when she took one look at him, rolled her eyes and dragged him inside. Even when he fell asleep on her couch. 

It was strange. Because it was starting to feel like he had friends. 

* * *

The next few days went similarly. He had his appointments with Sora. Discovered the limits of how long he could handle dealing with Hashirama. Found out yet again that he enjoyed working with the kids - and the kids wanted another lesson in landing, so it was a good way to work out some more issues at the same time. He spent time with more people than he knew he was on good terms with. 

Including Mito, who, it seemed, also knew about his relationship with Tobirama. She left him with some dire warnings about being a decent human being, pet his rabbit, and added that she was judging Tobirama’s taste. Not, she added, that Madara was unattractive. No, it wasn’t that at all. He just had all the steadiness of a northern ice pack during spring melt. 

...He could’t find fault in that. 

Then came the day he knew Tobirama was going to be back, assuming nothing went horribly wrong. In order to keep himself from having a nervous breakdown at the office, he just didn’t go in. Instead, he waited at Tobirama’s, making food. Something better than the man would bother with on his own, because he had all sorts of ingredients under preservation seals. 

Knowing Tobirama’s preference for fresh fish, he baked some with garlic and herbs, and made several small side dishes to go with it, including a desert - slices of matcha yōkan found at a local sweets shop. Dressed down in one of Tobirama’s yukatas - which still smelled just a little like him - and waited. 

Eventually, his patience was rewarded, though it was getting to be early afternoon by that time. The front door opened, sending a waft of cool air through the building, and there was the faint sound of a pair of sandals hitting the floor after being removed. The sounds were slower than they ought to be, which spoke of a tiresome mission. 

Or so Madara thought, until Tobirama finally came in. He looked _terrible_. Flushed and sweating, and generally miserable looking, he didn’t even seem to be able to tell Madara was there. He just slowly worked off his armor without even looking up, hands shaking. At first, Madara would have sworn that something terrible happened, but... 

On closer inspection, that didn’t seem to be the case. Everything he could see could easily be put down to fever and exhaustion. He approached quietly, but didn’t try to hide his presence, and gently called Tobirama’s name. It took three tries for Tobirama to actually look up, and when he did... His eyes were hazy and dull, and barely seemed to register what he was seeing. 

“Are you alright?” Madara asked, knowing full well that Tobirama was most definitely _not okay_. 

Tobirama’s mouth worked for a minute, trying to form words, and finally, he managed, “I think I’ve gotten sick.” Then he shivered violently, and pitched forward, and Madara had to dart across the last few feet between them in order to catch him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daifuku mochi: slightly larger mochi, usually stuffed with anko (sweet red bean paste), but there are other fillings too. Daifuku also means “great luck”. Cute, huh?
> 
> Gyudon: Thin sliced beef and onion in a sweet and savory sauce (flavored with dashi, soy sauce and mirin), served over rice or noodles. It’s literally “beef bowl”. Very tasty. Apparently it’s pretty common to top it with a fried egg.
> 
> Oden: A type of hotpot. Imagine here that they’re having kitsune oden, and Madara’s giving Gouawae bits of aburagé, because fox. xD
> 
> Yōkan: A jellied desert usually made of red bean paste, agar and sugar. Matcha (green tea) yōkan is made with shiro an (white kidney bean paste), which is milder than anko (red bean paste).
> 
> Heheh. Please, let me know how many of you guessed that Tobirama was getting sick? For reasons. And if anyone wants to guess where he picked it up, you’ll make my day and I’ll probably tell you if you got it right. And give you how he really got it if you get it wrong. x3
> 
> Let me know if I missed explaining anything, as usual.


	8. In Which Someone Forgot Important Self Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama let himself get sick and has to deal with the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darn these chapters, getting longer and longer… ♡♡

Denial was what kept Tobirama from admitting that there was something wrong. _It’s just a hangover_ , he thought, as they headed out to the Kyouraku Province. After all, it certainly felt like one. A headache and vague nausea that had only gotten worse throughout the day. Something easily ignorable. 

So he kept his good humor, fantasized a little about what kind of rewards he could enjoy once he got home. Tried not to think about the last time he had been through this particular province. He wasn’t all that successful, especially passing through the familiar terrain again for the first time in over a decade. 

Back then, he was one of many tired and hungry brats. And while he was more agile than the others, stronger and faster, because he was trained to be a shinobi... It was rough. They survived, they escaped that damned fortress before the besiegers looted and laid it to waste. And everything afterwards had been _easier_ , but... Thinking about that time, led him to think of how they ended up traveling here, and... 

These were things best left buried, even if he had the distinct feeling that Miaki-hime (an ancient presence he hadn’t wanted to think of since he had absolved himself of his debt to her) had been watching their party before they reached the Hyuuga. There was no proof to substantiate the thought, however, so he chose not to bring it up. 

The Hyuuga. That was another mess entirely. After some long talks, he _understood_ where Hakurou was coming from, but the whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth. The clan’s old guard were a detriment to the Hyuuga. But the seals that enslaved them? Better to just kill them than to leave them like that. 

He couldn’t quite articulate his problem with the Caged Bird Seal, though. His head ached and his thoughts were a touch fuzzy, but the Hyuuga were potentially enemies. He needed to keep his head while dealing with them. 

Fuuko proved invaluable in this, with their shared mother’s friendly nature, and he left most of the work to her. Likely, she put his reticence down to giving her a chance to gain more experience. To be fair, he may have done just that even had he been his usual self. 

By the time she convinced Hyuuga Hakurou that he needed to send a delegation back with them to Konoha in order to finalize any decisions regarding their inclusion, Tobirama was relying heavily on instinct and his chakra sense to stay on track. He had been tempted to use the Hiraishin to return to Konoha, but... He didn’t trust himself to make the necessary calculations in this state. 

In spite of his state - or perhaps because of it - the return trip went by much faster than one might expect, and the Hyuuga delegation had difficulty keeping up with the Konoha-nin. 

He powered through his report, handing the Hyuuga off to the correct parties, and went home, thinking, _Finally._ He missed his bed, and he was so damned tired that he doubted he’d even manage to eat before sleep. 

Taking off shoes and armor seemed to take forever, and he found himself leaning on the wall just to get the sandals off. He was still working on his armor, when he heard his name being called. For some reason, Madara was _right there_ and he seemed to radiate concern. “Are you alright?” 

It took a moment for him to form words, but it was high time he admitted what the problem was. “I think I’ve gotten sick,” he managed, shivering hard as nausea rose in his throat. Then, as though his body had just been waiting for him to admit it, he collapsed, like a puppet with cut strings. 

The last thing he felt before losing consciousness, was Madara’s arms around him, and his face sliding down Madara’s shoulder. 

* * *

The next few days, Tobirama was barely aware of what was happening. For a time, he thought he was in his own bed, with a tiny fox next to him wringing out a washcloth to place over his head. He felt Madara sitting next to him, trying to get him to drink water - and he tried, because his throat was parched, and because he knew he should, but drinking it just nauseated him. 

Then he was in a brighter room, and someone had been kind enough to make sure his eyes were covered, and he could hear his sister, Fuuko, crying and ranting, her voice doing that strange thing that made her high pitched and nearly unintelligible. And it sounded like she was stressing Madara out, so he tried to tell her to calm down, but nothing came out. 

Soon, she was gone again, and he could feel Madara sitting next to him, wringing his hands and muttering. “Hashirama was here earlier,” he said quietly. “I don’t think you were awake for that. He... He said a few things. I. Fucking hell, they told me you could die?! You. No, you aren’t allowed to do that. It’s just a fucking fever, you damned Senju. Fight it off!” 

Somehow, Tobirama worked out how to make his hands move, and reached out to grasp Madara’s wrist. “I’m fine,” he whispered hoarsely. Which, no, he wasn’t fine, but he _would be_ , and that was what was important. 

He’s fairly certain Madara flipped out over that, but he missed most of it. “...is a bitch, but Hashirama says she’s effective. Don’t go telling me you’re fine, idiot.” Madara made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled sob. “I can’t handle losing anyone else, you know. Yeah, the fucking rabbit helps, but... I just about lost it when he told me... Idiot thinks we’re friends. Dunno where he got that impression.” 

Tobirama would laugh, if had more energy. If he felt even the slightest bit better. “I’m hot,” he complained. “Want the blanket off...” He sighed in relief and shivered when Madara immediately moved to help him with it. “Not gonna die,” he told Madara. “Just not going to be able to work for a while.” 

Now that he thought about it, he might recall his grandmother chewing him out for recklessness at some point. Which wasn’t fair. He tried to keep on top of his white blood cell boosts. He... may have been forgetting a bit more often recently, though. Madara made a scoffing noise. “We’ve got a lot to talk about when you’re well enough. I mean, your idiot brother told me a lot, but...” 

Tobirama managed to pat his wrist, and just let the ramble flow over him, using what little mental energy he had to parse what Madara was saying. His albinism comes up, and that’s almost worth a response, given that Hashirama had apparently told Madara about it. If one knew exactly what they were looking at, it was obvious, but true albinos were rare enough in their world that one could look at the signs and easily come to a different conclusion. Tobirama drew poorly from his mother and father’s gene pool. 

But even that thought was almost too much work, and he found himself fading out to the sound of Madara’s voice. 

* * *

The first time he woke up and his brain was actually working again, Tobirama was alone. He felt disgusting, like he had been sweating profusely all night, and his mouth was dry and gummy feeling. There was a cup of water next to his bed, and to his surprise, his hands shook when he reached for it. 

Taking in his surroundings, finding himself in one of the rooms of the new hospital was less than a surprise. He should have known as soon as he started having such difficulty concentrating that he was going to end up here. It nearly took more effort than it was worth, pushing himself upright, but Tobirama was nothing if not stubborn. 

Soon enough, he managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, but decided that walking was beyond him at the moment. He remained seated and drank his water with hands that continued to shake, while trying to remember everything he could from the time he left Konoha. There was less that he could remember clearly than there should be, though he did have a distinct feeling that there was something he greatly disapproved of about the Hyuuga. 

There was a clatter at the door, and a loud voice - female, familiar - already lecturing even as it opened. “...and one would think by now you’d know when it’s time to stay down! What do you think you’re doing, undoing all my hard work? If you push yourself too much, you’ll be in here another week, and I’ll feed you nothing but unsweetened agar jelly and mangoes!” 

Sheepishly, Tobirama placed the cup on the table and laid back down. “It’s good to hear that you’re well, Baachan.” 

“And _you_ are most certainly not,” she snarked, making her way toward him with a vitality that put her Uzumaki agemates to shame. She hardly needed the cane she carried, used it for the image, along with the bamboo pipe she often smoked. Tobirama often thought Kukaku picked up that habit from her. “What were you thinking? That boy of yours had it too, but to look at him you’d never know it. If we could implant that boy’s immune system into everyone there’d be nothing left but incurable diseases in under a year. He munched that bug like a rice cracker, but for you, it was more like a boulder.” 

“What do you mean, what was I thinking?” he asked, pouting. 

“For one, Uchiha Madara, really? That man is going to kill you. Also, you’ve been neglecting your health. After all the trouble I went through, developing that jutsu, _for you_ ,” she scowled and harrumphed at him. “The least you could do is remember to use it. _Every week_ boy, unless you want to find yourself like this. Again.” 

Tobirama sighed, feeling his eyes fall half mast. He likely wouldn’t be up to doing anything for _days_. “So I did forget to use it. I wasn’t certain. I... tried to make up for it.” And he had. He remembered that his reasons for drinking the genmaicha had less to do with fucking with Madara - though that had certainly had its appeal - than because his stomach had been feeling unpleasant. 

“Herbal remedies aren’t going to do much for you! Everyone’s heard _him_ complaining about your genmaicha by now,” she snapped, reaching out to bop him on the head, and hitting even harder when he tried to pull away. “Now, your boy’s all worried about you and he’s been harrassing the hospital staff while carrying a _rabbit_ all over the place. One of the secretaries gave him a purse to keep it in so that it isn’t shitting everywhere.” 

At that, Tobirama chuckled tiredly. “Anija would wear me out, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Madara. And I’ll try not to overtire myself, so that you can tell everyone I’m fine soon enough.” 

The old woman shook her head, and harrumphed at him again. “That boy would wear out a mountain, and no, I’m not talking about your idiot brother. Fine, I’ll send him in next time I see him. Let’s hope he doesn’t start crying on your sister again.” 

* * *

He didn’t see Madara until the next time he woke up, and the man was sleeping in the chair next to his bed, face down on the hospital bed’s mattress. Right within easy reach for Tobirama. So he reached out and threaded his fingers into Madara’s hair, and found, to his amusement, that it was a dry, tangled mess again. 

“Do you really not know how to take care of your hair?” he wondered aloud. For all that the individual hairs were dry and brittle, the entire mass was actually quite soft, and Tobirama amused himself playing with it. “You need to brush some kind of oil into it. There are many kinds that would help this. Coconut would probably be best though...” 

“You need to take care of your face,” Madara muttered, without so much as lifting his head. 

“Are you even awake?” Tobirama asked, lips quirking into a smile when Madara made a nonsensical grumbling sound, proving that no, he wasn’t awake. 

He had only been playing with Madara’s hair for a couple of minutes when a noodley orange shape emerged from it, near to where his hand rested. Gouawae blinked up at him, stretching its long body in a ripple from the tip of its nose to the end of its tail. 

“Gouawae is awake,” it said, moving down onto the bed, then it stretched in an entirely different way. Tobirama watched the tiny fox do what appeared to be the fox version of yoga for a time, highly entertained. It seemed to be getting into the advanced poses when Madara finally stirred. 

“The hell are you doing?” he asked. 

And although Tobirama didn’t know whether Madara was talking to him or the fox, it was Gouawae that answered, “Gouawae is doing kitsune yoga!” 

Tobirama’s fingers twitched in Madara’s hair, in a soothing rhythm. He really wanted the fox’s contract. Having something like Gouawae around for entertainment could only be a good thing. “Little one, the offer of a secondary contract is still open, if you’d like.” 

“The fuck,” said Madara, sitting up suddenly and upsetting Tobirama’s hand. Disappointedly, he let his hand drop back to his side. “First thing you do once you’re coherent again is try to steal my summon? Again?” 

“Secondary contract, Madara. You would still be holding the little one’s primary contract. No theft involved.” Tobirama smothered a yawn. “Besides, the first thing I did was get yelled at by my grandmother.” 

“Yeah, because like an idiot you tried to get up. She told me.” Madara scoffed, digging a hand into the purse at his side - which seemed to contain Killer Jade - and then he slumped forward. “That hellish old woman is your grandmother? I can only imagine you spent a lot of time with her growing up.” 

“While that’s true, I can hardly guess why you’d assume such a thing.” Tobirama reached for Madara’s hair again, missing the feel of it between his fingers. To his surprise, Madara leaned in to the touch with a soft groan. “I spent a lot of time with our healers in general, when I was very young.” 

“Right. On that note,” Madara grunted, trying to position himself so that Tobirama’s hand was still in his hair and he could look directly at him. “How did I not know you’re an albino? You don’t. Not really. You don’t quite look like one.” 

A soft huff of a laugh escaped him. “It was disguised, obviously. Silvering soaps for my hair. Sunscreen. There’s a reason I use so much of that lotion.” Madara made a face at him. “Nothing could be done for my eyes, but... I’m a sensor. I don’t really need to rely on my eyes.” 

“Sacrilege,” Madara murmured, with a sigh. 

To that, Tobirama chuckled. For an Uchiha, he could see that being the case. “It was very useful, dealing with genjutsu in general. Everyone expects that I see the world as they do, when that’s not case.” He dug his fingers into the hair just behind Madara’s ear, and Madara made another pleased sound. 

“That doesn’t seem fair.” 

“Why not? I can’t see the leaves, but I can see the trees.” Genjutsu users tended to try and convince him that he could see the leaves. The only way he ever did that was when using a vision enhancing jutsu or his glasses, which he preferred not to wear. 

“And the other thing?” Madara asked, catching Tobirama’s wrist loosely in his hand. He didn’t try to pull Tobirama’s hand away from his head, just held him there. 

“Which other thing?” 

“Compromised immune system,” Madara replied, pouting at him. Their nearness made it more effective than it normally would be. 

“It isn’t usually a problem,” he sighed. “There’s an iryo-nin technique that Baachan developed when I was little. I needed to be capable of using it before I could even be sent on long-term missions. A weekly boost to my white blood cells...” And now they weren’t going to trust him to take care of it himself anymore. “I’ll probably be able to negotiate Baachan down to monthly check-ups.” Or so he hoped. She was a stubborn old woman. 

“What?” 

“They aren’t going to trust me to keep on top of it myself anymore.” Tobirama sighed again. What a pain. Then he jumped, because Madara lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Tobirama’s waist and burying his face against his belly. “Madara, what are you doing?” 

Most of what Madara said was muffled, and his shoulders were shaking, but Tobirama distinctly caught, “...fucking idiot,” somewhere in the sudden jumble of words. Tobirama just smiled, and continued petting Madara’s hair, wondering when he had started growing fond of the over-dramatic idiot. Surely it said terrible things about his taste. 

* * *

When he was finally given the freedom to return home, he wasn’t in the least bit surprised that Madara followed him. And while he was still tired, he had just enough energy to be bored out of his mind. Because they wouldn’t let him _do anything_ while he was at the hospital. Not even paperwork. Even though one of the things Hashirama had cried about in his long, random diatribe was that he had to take up some of Tobirama’s paperwork just to keep everything running as smoothly as it could. 

As soon as the door was shut behind them, warm arms encircled Tobirama from behind, and Madara pressed his face in between his shoulders. “You aren’t allowed to do that again,” was grumbled against his spine, and Tobirama melted into the embrace. 

“Hm, I suppose I owe you an apology. For upsetting you,” he said, tilting his head back to bump against Madara’s. “Would a blow job make you feel better?” 

Madara froze, then made a noise halfway between horror and intrigue. “I want to say no,” Madara said, with a self-deprecating laugh. “But a certain part of me says yes. So, yeah, for maybe ten minutes.” 

“I feel like you’re underestimating me...” Tobirama turned within the circle of Madara’s arms, and nuzzled into his throat. Pressed his lips against Madara’s ear, and murmured, “Thanks for setting the bar so low.” Then got to work opening Madara’s robes while Madara leaned against the entryway wall, placing the bunny purse on the floor. Tobirama kept his mouth busy traveling down the lines of Madara’s throat. 

Madara dug the fingers of one gloved hand into his hair, while he kissed his way down to Madara’s collarbone, nipping occasionally to make the fingers in his hair clench. Sparse hair tickled his lips, thickening the further down he got, and by the time he dropped to his knees, he realized that Madara was a positively furry man. 

That got a vaguely amused sound from him as he dragged his fingers through the thicker hair on Madara’s lower belly. Above him, Madara’s breath caught in his throat, and when Tobirama looked up, he caught a flash of red in Madara’s eyes. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t even felt Madara’s Sharingan activate. 

The hairiness wasn’t nearly as much of a deterrent as Tobirama would have expected. It was... charming, in a strange sort of way. Like being watched with an active Sharingan. Strange, but oddly charming, in this position, pressing his lips and teeth into the skin under Madara’s navel, with Madara’s hand clenching and unclenching in his hair. 

He made short work of the ties holding Madara’s pants closed, and let them slide out of the way. Let Madara’s shaking hands direct him further down, and kissed the base of his cock, dragged his fingernails through the hair at his groin while listening to the sweet music of helpless cursing over his head. Took a deep breath, scenting his own soaps and Madara’s musk, and suddenly his mouth was watering. 

Tobirama took Madara’s cock in hand, and wrapped his lips around the tip, tongue pressing forward to prod and taste the slit. One of Madara’s hands left his hair to thump at the wall, even as he cursed louder. “Tobirama. Fuck. Look at me. Look up at me, I need you to...” 

Madara was leaned forward, hair hanging over his shoulder to brush Tobirama’s cheeks when he looked up. Saw Madara’s mouth fall open when he took him further into his mouth. Felt his fingers clench again. “Fuck, I knew you’d be beautiful like this,” he said, and Tobirama’s eyes narrowed into pleased slits, and he hummed in approval around his mouthful. 

Madara’s thigh trembled under his free hand, and Tobirama dropped the hand from his cock to wrap around his hip. Relaxed his throat and gave an encouraging tug. The noise Madara made sounded _wounded_ , but he followed directions so well, and Tobirama swallowed around him when he thrust. 

“Gods, you have no idea,” Madara whimpered. Gripped Tobirama’s hair and pulled him forward onto his cock, cursing again when Tobirama made a desperate sound that was cut off by the next thrust. “Fuck, you’re just. I could do this forever. Just, like this, come on, I need.” He pulled back just enough for Tobirama to get a breath of air, then thrust deeply again. 

This time, he held him down, muttering obscenities, and Tobirama frantically shoved a hand into his own pants to grip himself and roughly jerk off. The other, he left on Madara’s hip, fingers gripping bruisingly tight. He gulped around Madara’s cock, and couldn’t breathe past it, only whine desperately, but... 

“Again,” Madara groaned, pulling back, giving Tobirama air, and then... Forward again, and holding him down, as he rocked back and forth. “Fuck. I can’t. I want to. Like this. Just like this.” The sound of Madara gasping and groaning over him, tensing under his hand, and “I’m going to, just. Pull back and I’ll let go if you don’t want me to...” 

When he didn’t pull back, Madara whimpered again, shoved himself deep, and Tobirama swallowed around him as he let himself go. Tobirama almost came to the sound and feel of Madara coming down his throat. Instead, he came the instant he could breathe again, when Madara pulled him off of himself. He gasped raggedly for air, and cried out as soon as he had it. 

Madara slid down the wall in front of him, tugging Tobirama into several messy kisses, interspersed by random profanity, even as Tobirama was catching his breath. “You’re fucking perfect. Fuck, just-” kiss- “perfect. Look at you.” And he dragged a gloved finger across Tobirama’s bottom lip before pulling him in for another kiss. 

Tobirama murmured something pleased into the kiss, and slowly collapsed against Madara, pinning him against the wall. Madara didn’t seem to mind, just reached around to rub his hands up and down Tobirama’s spine. “Where’s your fox?” he asked after several more kisses. Their lips were still touching, and Madara didn’t even bother to pull back at the question. 

“Mm. Probably in the bunny bag,” he replied, and they both turned and looked at the purse, which looked distinctly empty. A few feet further away, they could see Killer Jade, with her orange rider, sitting placidly in the doorway to the living area, facing away from them and refusing to move with the fox’s quiet demands. “Okay. Not in the bag. Mm. So why were you asking?” 

“I was half expecting it to jump out of your hair again,” Tobirama shrugged, leaned up and kissed the corner of Madara’s mouth. “That was rather off-putting, the first time.” 

Madara snorted. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Then he heaved a sigh, and after running his hands down Tobirama’s back one more time, tugged them both back upright and standing. “Come on. We can fill up the bath and you can wash off the smell of the hospital.” 

“And you?” Tobirama asked, biting back a grin. 

Madara was also smiling, though it was a softer expression. “Obviously I’m going with you. I need more excuses to touch you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies for those of you who catch this: During his fever, there was one point Tobirama was certain he was hallucinating. But he wasn’t. Cookies if you caught it. :’D


	9. In Which Someone is Overly Dramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is how it ends. (Not really. Reread the chapter title.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normal chapter length. Also, warning, vaguely cliffhangery at the end. But only vaguely. I mean, it’s obvious where I’m going with it.

Today was the day. Madara wasn’t going to let _anything_ get in his way. After that truly amazing blow job, he slowly came to the realization that he just couldn’t put it off any more. He _had_ to tell Hashirama. 

So he came into the Hokage’s office, just before his nemesis normally would be in, sat in Hashirama’s swivel chair, Killer Jade in his lap, and _waited_. And waited. It didn’t take long for him to grow both bored and morose, and he took to staring out the window, contemplating life after death - or perhaps that he was going to haunt the shit out of Tobirama, because _seriously_ this was all his fault. 

It could seriously be some bizarre assassination scheme. But if he didn’t want to go back to his own house and pretty much stay there, he had to man up and... tell Hashirama that he had defiled his little brother, and now he was going to die, because hadn’t Hashirama said he _murdered_ anyone who fucked up from the very start? 

A noise from the door drew his attention, and he swiveled the chair around - slowly, because he didn’t have any joy left in him - to face the door. Met Hashirama’s eyes for three quarters of a second before Hashirama _cringed_ and slowly shut the door. 

Madara sighed. Life was so damned cruel, dragging this out for him. This was a conversation that demanded privacy, and there were seals in the office for that. But if Hashirama wasn’t coming in, Madara may as well turn the chair back around and look out the window some more. 

It really was a wonderful view that Hashirama had from his office. It seemed rather unfortunate that this was the first time Madara noticed it, because it would be the last day he could enjoy it. 

Petting Killer Jade was soothing, even if it didn’t bring his mood up. Gouawae had already spoken its opinion - that Madara-sama shouldn’t worry, because he was doing a good job, making Yako-sama happy - and was resting in his collar, alert for in case it was needed. It was sweet that the fox even tried to make him feel better. 

No, if he _really_ wanted to feel better, there were some pleasant things he could dwell on, and fifty percent of said things were images of what Tobirama looked like giving head. The rest was evenly scattered between other aspects of sex with Tobirama, who he’s only seen naked _bathing_. 

Although _that_ was a glorious image right there. Miles of smooth, milky flesh marred by the occasional scar, many of which Madara couldn’t tell the origin of. The only ones that seemed to tell their own tale were the scar on his left wrist, where it looked as though he had tried to tear himself free of shackles, and the burn scars on his heels and calves. That could very well have been caused by one of Madara’s own clansmen. 

There were many that looked fairly typical of a shinobi - his thigh had been pierced at some point by something that was likely a sword. Someone had nearly succeeded in disembowling him once. And something left deep gouges like claw marks across one of his shoulder blades a very long time ago. 

All in all, Tobirama’s body was a fascinating roadmap that he dearly wished he had more time to follow. With his hands and his teeth and tongue. The claw marks in particular had an interestingly smooth texture, just a slight dip in the soft expanse of Tobirama’s shoulder. Those, at least, he had gotten a chance at last night. 

(Tobirama had stiffened at his interest in his scarred up wrist, so he had to move on from that quickly. It wouldn’t be right to remind Tobirama of whatever was in the past when all he wanted to do was pleasure him.) 

A sound at the door caused Madara to heave another sigh, and he turned the chair around again to see Hashirama. Staring. From the very narrow crack in the door. It shut again without ever opening more than an inch. Madara stayed facing the door for a couple of minutes, expecting it to open again. But it didn’t, and so he turned back toward the window to contemplate all the nice things that he wasn’t going to have again. 

Things that he wanted to do and wouldn’t ever have the chance for. Because Hashirama was going to kill him. As soon as he stopped being stupid and came in and talked to Madara. 

* * *

Madara’s contemplation of what it might be like to go to Tanabata with a lover was interrupted by the door opening again, so he sighed and turned to face it, just as he had been doing each time Hashirama opened it before. Only this time, the eyes that met his were blue, under a lopsided mop of blond hair. Said eyes didn’t meet his for long, though. They dropped quickly, and Sora slipped through the barely cracked open door, closing it behind him. 

“We need to get you an actual therapist fast,” the man murmured, longsufferingly pushing his hair out of his face. His eyes flicked up then down again, and he moved to take a seat in one of the guest chairs. “Is there any reason you’re haunting the Hokage’s office looking like death warmed over?” 

“I just wanted to talk to him,” Madara muttered. “But he won’t even come in. He just looks at me and closes the door. Every time. I fucking finally decided that I’m going to do it. I’m going to tell him. And he doesn’t even have the decency to come in and talk to me.” 

Sora snickered behind a hand. “Yeah, I can see that. He’s been doing his paperwork in the hall. Somehow, he seems to think I’ll be able to sort this out. But... I don’t know what he expects me to do.” 

Madara grumbled under his breath, threading his fingers through Killer Jade’s fur. She was just as soft as ever, and her fur was a fascinating shade of gray. “Tell him to come in here and end my misery. I wanted this talk to be private. Gives him plausible deniability when no one ever sees me again.” 

“You seem pretty sure that he’s going to kill you for what? Getting into a relationship with Tobirama?” When Madara looked up, Sora had on his therapy face. 

“You’re seriously turning this into a session?” he complained, and Sora’s pseudo-interested expression didn’t change. He hadn’t shared the exact circumstances of how he and Tobirama started down this path, and he was pretty sure that Sora would actually judge him over it. “Fine. It’s just. I fucked up from the literal beginning. Like. Before we even started. And. Hashirama. He.” Madara paused, buried his face in one of his hands. “He is going to kill me for how badly I fucked up. Because even if Tobirama’s fine with how things happened, are happening, I know better. It wasn’t okay, and it’s even worse because I actually _like him_ now.” 

“I won’t push,” Sora told him, looking all reasonable. Madara did _not_ understand how Sora’s mind worked. Shouldn’t he ask more questions? Sure, he might not be an actual therapist, but he was supposed to be evaluating Madara, wasn’t he? “You know that. But whatever it is you’re doing right now? Obviously this isn’t going to work. What can help right now?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, hunching over Killer Jade until his hair was piled up around her. She nosed some of it curiously, but otherwise remained her usual, patient self. “It’s something I have to do, but... I can’t think of a way to make it better.” 

“Alright.” Sora stood up, and Madara glanced up at him to see a thoughtful frown on his face. “I may have a temporary solution for you. But you’ll just have to wait for it to come here, alright?” 

Madara blinked at him. “Alright...” 

Sora nodded, then shook his head, turning for the door. “We really need to find you a permanent therapist,” he said. At the door, he paused. “Just wait for a little bit, Madara. I’ll send something that’ll help. Assuming I can convince it to come.” 

“Okay.” He frowned at the door after it closed behind the Yamanaka. With nothing else to do, he turned back to the window. 

* * *

The door was opening yet again, so Madara heaved another sigh and scooted the chair back around into position. This time, it wasn’t Hashirama, or Sora, or any one of a number of secretaries who had taken one look at him throughout the day and just backed out like they had walked in on a dragon. It was Tobirama, looking a bit bemused but smiling faintly - and Madara thought he might be getting used to seeing Tobirama’s face in expressions other than blank or frowning. And unlike Hashirama, he didn’t cower behind the door, nor did he look near so hesitant as Sora. Nor did he run like the secretaries. 

“Madara,” and he sounded both fond and exasperated and Madara didn’t know what to do with that. He was pretty sure he could pin down when he started liking Tobirama, but he hadn’t been aware that the feeling was mutual. Why the fuck would Tobirama be fond of him? “What are you doing?” 

Madara cleared his throat, glanced down at Killer Jade who was chewing on a lock of his hair. When he glanced back up, Tobirama was walking towards him. “I was waiting to talk to Hashirama.” 

Tobirama snorted as he rounded the desk. Then he sat down on top of it, at an angle from Madara. “And instead, you’ve frightened him. Anija’s doing his paperwork - which is a good thing, I admit, but he’s doing it on the floor, in the hall. He seems to think you’ve been possessed by a hungry ghost - no, I don’t know where he got that idea, but he swears you’re waiting in here to eat him.” He huffed out a nearly silent laugh. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. He’s probably stringy. And by this point, fermented.” 

“Funny,” he replied, wryly. “I can’t imagine wanting to eat him, anyway.” 

“You haven’t been hungry enough.” Tobirama reached down and freed Madara’s hair from Killer Jade. He played with the lock idly as he continued talking. “But just so you know, anija did say that if it ever came down to it, in emergency, he wants to be eaten first.” 

Well, that was positively nauseating. “Is this you trying to make me feel better?” Madara whined plaintively. “Because it isn’t working.” 

“I thought he was being silly and impractical,” Tobirama said, with that nasty little smirk he only recently started letting Madara see. “We should eat our enemies first. Only if there’s no other choice should we eat one of our own.” 

“Seriously, I don’t think I like this conversation,” he groaned. “It’s bad enough, hearing some of the rumors about the shogun...” 

“That he eats the hearts of his enemies?” Tobirama asked, smirk widening. “That was a rumor at one time, wasn’t it? Supposedly one of the Hyuuga witnessed him doing it on the battlefield. I’ve worked with him in the past you know. Would you like me to tell you that he doesn’t?” 

Madara gave him a searching look. Somehow, he didn’t think Tobirama was going to tell him something nice and sanitary if he asked. “I’d really rather not know,” he admitted. “Why are we talking about this?” 

“It seemed to flow, from the hungry ghost thing,” Tobirama shrugged. “He does by the way. It’s an extremely successful intimidation tactic.” 

“Fuck. Really? I just said I didn’t want to know!” Now if he ever had to speak to Kyouraku face to face, he was going to be thinking about that. Not that he wanted to talk to the man, considering his clan’s previous politics. “Why are you here?” 

Tobirama snorted, letting the smirk fade back into amused exasperation. He gave the lock of hair in his hands a little tug. “Sora told me you were having a breakdown and that I needed to let you off the hook. For today, at least.” 

“Let me off the hook?” Madara frowned up at him. 

“You don’t have to do it today. In fact,” he said, leaning forward and bringing the hair up to his lips as though kissing it, “since the day’s mostly over, I thought you can come home with me and make good on that promise of yours.” 

“Promise?” Madara asked dumbly, then suddenly remembered - Tobirama’s voice thick and raspy with lust, saying, “That better be a promise.” and what he had said to earn that response. He swallowed thickly. That was certainly one way to completely distract him. “Okay.” 

Tobirama fisted the hair in his hand and used it to pull Madara up and forward. “Do you have everything you need?” he asked, breath hot and heavy in Madara’s ear. 

And when Madara nodded, fingers instinctively clutching at the bunny, there was a flash of yellow light, leaving the office empty behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tanabata - Star Festival celebrating the stars Vega (Orihime) and Altair (Hikoboshi) coming together. Celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month (usually of the lunar calendar).
> 
> Did anyone see the James Bond moment (that repeated several times)?


	10. Finally (or Finale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara finally gets his romantic dinner (too bad his lover isn’t much of a romantic), and a couple of promises are fulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally wrote part of this drunk. Cheers if you can figure out the seven or so paragraphs. x’D By drunk, I mean, halfway to obliterated.
> 
> Anyway, I want to say, I love all of you. ♡ But don’t expect the start of the next one for at least a week. I want to have a buffer of a couple chapters before I start posting... and by that point, I’ll have an idea of where exactly, that part is going. I do expect it to be a shorter one, leading into another big one.

Madara kept surprising Tobirama. Sometimes by being a dramatic idiot. Sometimes by being headstrong at the worst moments. Sometimes by touching him when he doesn’t expect it. Sometimes... by being careful with him. Other times, it was by showing more patience than Tobirama had at these times. 

Because Madara wanted to do what he had missed out on that night that he came back from his mission with the Hyuuga. He chivvied Tobirama off to enjoy a bath while he took care of dinner, which was curious. He hadn’t realized that he had missed more with his botched homecoming than sex. Hopefully excellent sex. 

Considering how much of a mess Madara usually was, Tobirama expected that dinner was going to be a flaming disaster. He was going to try to be nice about it, when Madara inevitably fucked up, considering that no one beyond family _ever_ made that kind of an effort for him. It was actually really sweet that he was trying. Tobirama would never have assumed Madara for the romantic type, but now that he was seeing it, he didn’t know why he was surprised. 

He washed thoroughly, then relaxed in the furo, keeping a metaphorical eye on Madara’s activity. Said activity seemed more focused than the frantic rush he would have expected, suggesting that Madara either knew what he was doing, or just hadn’t reached disaster stage yet. 

Watching Madara’s chakra gave him a clear indication of when he should pry himself out of the water and finish his ablutions - just in case he was called upon before getting a chance to bathe again. Most of that consisted of thoroughly slathering himself with lotion from head to toe, hair included. Over the years he had gotten quite quick at it, and while others would likely consider it an indulgence, Tobirama viewed it as a necessity, given that he burned so easily without it. Even his scalp was in danger if he wasn’t careful. 

By the time he wandered back out and into his living room, he could smell roasted garlic and lime, and found his stomach intrigued. Everything was already set up on the kotatsu, and he was pleasantly surprised to be able to honestly say, “It smells delicious.” 

“I had to make do with what you already had,” Madara replied, though he sounded pleased, “but you seem to keep a good variety at hand. And the preservation seals. That’s so sensible, I wonder why it isn’t more commonly used.” 

They both said “Itadakimasu” in time, like children, and laughed at each other. Tobirama quickly found that the delicious scent came off of plates of steamed fish, and there was also gyoza, inarizushi, grilled veggies and the typical rice and miso - which, perhaps unsurprisingly, had aburagé in it. “Did you make the gyoza from scratch?” he asked, because they were good, and he was having to reevaluate Madara again. 

“You had everything I needed,” Madara agreed. 

They ate quietly for several minutes, Madara watching him in a manner that would probably be unnerving in any other situation. This was _nice_ , but... Tobirama leaned forward on his elbow, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “You do realize you don’t have to romance me, right?” 

Madara shrugged, not seeming in the least bit bothered when he answered. “Our lives aren’t exactly conducive to it,” he admitted. “But I still want to do it. Not because I have to. I just. Want to. Have you never wanted to do something like that?” 

Tobirama pouted at that. It wasn’t that he was disinclined, exactly, but... he hardly wanted to waste his efforts on someone who wouldn’t stick around. “You think I’ve ever had the time? Or had a partner that lasted long enough to even think of bothering with these things? Anija is, apparently, too much of a deterrent for those who would otherwise be inclined to stay.” 

Madara muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. “Seriously? He chases off _everyone_? Even if you managed to find an actual decent person, he would chase them off?” 

“Pretty much,” he agreed. Because he had a couple lovers that he would have called good people, and one of them went so far as to leave the country (and he wasn’t the last of Tobirama’s lovers to do so, only one of the best). That one, he would have liked more time with, had Hashirama not ruined it. 

“...and you don’t think he’ll chase me off? Or murder me?” 

Because Tobirama preferred brutal honesty in his personal life, he told Madara exactly what he expected. “I think he likes you well enough that he won’t know how to handle the situation.” 

“So you don’t think he’ll murder me.” 

If Madara didn’t seem so serious, Tobirama might have laughed it off. “No, I don’t think he’ll kill you. I don’t even think he’ll try to chase you away. I _think_ he’ll try to interfere with our relationship, without forcing anything. Just be generally annoying, because he doesn’t want to lose either of us. I _expect_ him to be a really persistent cockblocker.” 

“Oh.” Madara took a moment to finish his meal, and Tobirama did the same. “I would have done dessert, but... I was thinking anmitsu, and it seems like the only thing you don’t have is agar.” 

“It’s fine,” Tobirama replied, more than a little amused. “Considering Baachan threatened to feed me nothing but unsweetened agar jelly and mangoes not too long ago, I think I’ll live without it.” 

“Don’t like mangoes?” Madara asked, and he was finally smiling, which was a good change. He was still watching Tobirama in that not quite unnerving way, but that was expected. 

“It’s the closest I’ve come to detesting a fruit,” he agreed. While he could eat mango, he would greatly prefer not to. 

Madara suddenly made a frustrated sound, and pushed to his feet. “We’re done eating,” he announced. Then he scooped up his bunny and the tiny fox which was still holding an inarizushi between its paws. “I’m putting Killer Jade in her cage, and you... can meet me in your room.” 

Tobirama blinked after him as he went to do as he said. “Well, that was abrupt. And... interesting.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about taking orders, but in this case, he was willing to give it a shot. So he stood as well, and cleaned up dinner - not being fond of the idea of leaving it for however long this encounter was going to take. 

When he made it to his room, Madara was already there, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a well hidden nervousness threaded through his chakra. It took a moment, to figure out why Madara was nervous, but once he realized, he gave the man a reassuring smile. This would be the first time that they actually _planned_ to have sex, even if neither of them had come right out and said so. 

“If you need me to take charge,” he said, slipping onto the bed, “I can do that.” He reached across the space between them to wrap his hand around Madara’s nape. Wondered if they should take a few minutes to get Madara’s hair out of the way, but Madara sighed, and leaned into the touch like a cat, which chased the thought away. 

“That’s not necessary,” Madara replied, catching his hand, and holding it to the side of his head. “I just...” His expression wasn’t quite the usual tired look. More thoughtful, echoing the nervousness hidden in his chakra. 

Tobirama gave a tug, and Madara moved bonelessly forward, meeting his kiss halfway. There were echoes of dinner in the taste of Madara’s mouth, and Tobirama chased the flavors interestedly, even with Madara groaning into his mouth. He drew back just enough to ask, “Yes?” 

“And we aren’t even naked,” Madara moaned, like it was a tragedy. 

Tobirama agreed with that assessment. It _was_ a tragedy, although they both wore nothing but yukatas - suitable for an evening in - unless Madara was hiding fundoshi underneath his. So he leaned back and shrugged his own off - nudity had never really been taboo among the Senju, so the fact that it riled others up was often amusing. As was the strangled noise Madara made. 

“That wasn’t. You didn’t have to...” Madara trailed off with another pitiable sound. 

Tobirama just smirked at him, tugging at the obi that was the last of what held the yukata on him. He leaned back in to purr in Madara’s ear, “I know that, Madara. I was interested hours ago. At this point, I’m waiting on _you_.” 

“Right,” Madara groaned, turning just enough to catch Tobirama’s lips with his own. One kiss, two, before he pulled back and panted against Tobirama’s mouth. “Lay down, on your belly. I have a promise to fulfill.” His voice was deep and dark and throaty and it _did things_ to Tobirama. With the reminder of that promise... 

He did as instructed, biting his lip when Madara’s hands were immediately on his hips, tugging him into a better position. Feeling leather instead of flesh, and he had _known_ that Madara was still wearing his gloves - the man rarely wasn’t - but... It always felt _different_ in these situations. Strange and sexy. 

“Show me that you can keep still,” Madara told him, dragged his hands around to cup Tobirama’s ass cheeks and used his thumbs to pull them apart. 

“Of course I can keep still,” Tobirama found himself snarking - then proved himself wrong by jolting when Madara bit his ass. A shiver went up his spine at Madara’s laugh, and he grumbled a curse into his forearm. 

“Of course you can,” Madara murmured against the bite, kissing it. Chuckling when Tobirama tensed underneath him. “Impatient, are you?” 

“It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say I’ve been waiting for this for _days_ -” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp, burying his face in his arms at the feeling of Madara’s tongue swiping, hot and wet, across his hole. 

One hand stroked up the small of Tobirama’s back, smoothing over tense muscles. “I should reward your patience, then, shouldn’t I?” The reward came with teeth that scraped lightly at the soft skin of his perineum, and Tobirama groaned into the cradle of his arms as Madara licked again. 

A higher sound caught in his throat when that hot tongue pressed inside of him, and he fought not to buck back into the sensation. “Madara..!” he gasped, twisting to reach back and grab at Madara’s hair. Madara laughed, but followed the implicit instruction, pressing closer and deeper, while Tobirama whimpered. “Just. Please..!” 

Madara pulled back with a wet noise, told him, “Patience,” then pressed a finger in alongside his tongue. Pulled back again, to mutter, “Fuck, you’re tense.” 

“If someone would ju-ahh! Fuck!” His fingers clenched in Madara’s hair, and his hips bucked. That would have been Madara’s fingers on his prostate, he realized, dazedly muttering profanity. Madara’s free hand steadied his hips when he tried to rock back into that amazing wet pressure, and then, lightning struck across his nerves again, causing him to cry out. “Madara..!” 

It felt like all his senses were trained on that feeling, and even the little puffs of air across his ass when Madara panted for breath were slowly becoming overwhelming. Madara’s fingers pumping in and out of him, tongue working the edge of his opening, it was too much, and Tobirama tore at the bedsheets, at Madara’s hair. 

“Fuck, please, Madara..!” He could have screamed when Madara drew away, the motion of his fingers slowing to almost nothing. “No no no, you better not be stopping, you bastard..!” 

“Just for a moment,” Madara growled, and oh, the voice thing. He hoped Madara kept talking, because he might just be able to get off on that. “I told you, didn’t I? Once I get what I want, then I’ll fuck you hard, just like I know _you_ want. Do you remember what I said?” 

Tobirama’s brain was so fogged that it took a moment for him to remember exactly what Madara meant. Then he groaned into the crook of his arm. “Madara, please..?” 

“It’s alright,” Madara leaned over him, chest hot and solid against Tobirama’s back as he purred into Tobirama’s ear. Tobirama shuddered and bit back a pitiful sound. The rumble of Madara’s voice felt so fucking good. “You know that it’s not the begging I want, though that’s lovely. I want you to scream for me, and I know just how to get what I want...” 

Then Tobirama did scream, lightning flaring across his nerves as Madara’s fingers rubbed hard at his prostate, when only a moment before, they’d barely been moving. He whimpered when Madara withdrew his fingers, only to come back coated in lotion. Mumbled more profanity into his arm as he was allowed to rock back onto Madara’s fingers. “Please..?” 

“Almost,” Madara reassured him. “We’re almost there...” Then he was withdrawing his fingers again, kissing Tobirama’s shoulder at the anguished cry that escaped him. “You’re doing so well, Tobirama. So well. Just a moment more.” And the blunt head of Madara’s cock was being pressed into him, Madara groaning in his ear, “Fuck, you’re still so tight. Breathe, Tobirama. Just... Fuck.” 

That’s what he did. He breathed through the first slow thrusts. Cried out again when Madara began to move more roughly, and then he was just trying to keep up with the rough drag and push of it. Then Madara actually reached around, taking Tobirama’s cock in hand and pumped him in time with his thrusts. And he was already so close that it only took a few pulls before he was spilling over Madara’s hand and the sheets with a hoarse shout. 

Madara’s other hand, still gloved, tightened on his hip, dragging Tobirama’s lax body into the grinding of his hips. “Not yet, not yet,” Madara groaned, pressing kisses against Tobirama’s shoulders and the nape of his neck. “Fuck, you feel amazing. Soft and loose for me. I just. Want this. A little longer, I can’t. Fuck. Just a little longer.” 

Tobirama was fine with that. Madara was right, he _did_ feel amazing. Everything felt soft and fuzzy at the edges, and Madara’s vocal appreciation only made it better. He made quiet, appreciative sounds, and soon, Madara stilled, pulling Tobirama closer as he shuddered through his release. 

Several more kisses were pressed to the back of Tobirama’s neck, before Madara found his voice again - something he seemed to often do regrettably quickly. But the words were a soft and hopeful, “Can I stay?” 

Tobirama sighed, reached over his shoulder and dug his fingers into Madara’s hair, earning a pleased grumble. “Only if you do something about this.” 

(He should have known that Madara would take that as him volunteering to braid it again. Not that he’s complaining.) 

* * *

So far, Madara’s promise seemed to have held. Well into the morning council meeting, and Tobirama could definitely still feel the pleasant ache of it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right time to dwell on it, as the matter of the Hyuuga’s inclusion in Konoha was currently up for debate. 

“It isn’t that I don’t think they should be included,” Madara was saying, standing up and leaning on his hands. His voice was just shy of shouting, as it often was when he bothered to speak his mind in a meeting, but Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to mind, considering the subject matter. “I just think that something needs to be done about this Caged Bird Seal of theirs. Sure, it’s fine to brand criminals with it, but fuck. Not entire family lines. That’s all I’m saying. Kids! There are kids involved! It actually says in... Senju Fuuko’s report, that everyone not involved in the internal coup was sealed. _Everyone_.” 

“I agree,” Tobirama said, and ignored that the words turned several heads. Madara sat down, waving him up. “Thank you. I’ve been thinking about this, and the point Madara’s making is an important one. I’m of the opinion that everyone within the Hyuuga clan below a certain age should have the seal removed, and all others should be reviewed by a third party ensuring that they will be loyal to the current daimyo. And a restriction needs to be placed on the usage of the seal, so that it isn’t used to settle internal politics again. The seal... it places the lives of too many potentially useful shinobi in the hands of one man.” 

He sat back down, willing to wait and see if anyone else had anything to say about it. Surprisingly, someone did stand up, immediately. Nara Yasutora, and that turned even more heads than Tobirama’s agreeing with Madara. The question was, would he speak. Or would he just stare out over the table, at each of the individual clan heads, and stand there for a while. His mouth actually started to open, and just about everyone leaned forward. But all he said was, “Agreed.” And he sat back down. 

“I hate you so much that I’m surprised I don’t spontaneously combust,” Kouga muttered. “Get fucked, Nara. Maybe it’ll loosen your tongue a little.” 

“Well, that was harsh,” said Sora, humor lacing his tone. 

“Don’t tell me you actually disagree with me,” the Inuzuka grouched, pouting ridiculously at the diminutive Yamanaka. 

Sora was quiet for a moment, then turned to his friend. “You might want to start speaking more.” 

“No,” Yasutora replied, shaking his head. 

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Hashirama said, tone as dry as the desert, only to be interrupted. 

“We’ve gotten nothing out of the way!” And Kouga slumped back down in his seat. “Sorry. That was inappropriate. It’s just. I’ve had to work with this fucker for weeks. You have no idea what it’s like.” 

“Ehr... Right. Ah.” Hashirama pushed his hat back, made several complicated faces at everyone, then continued brightly, “Does anyone object to Tobirama’s suggestion? Or have anything to add?” 

The Akimichi head, Tamotsu, stood up and Tobirama squinted at him to make sure he caught everything the large man - the only clan head that was larger than Yasutora - had to say. He seemed to be offering the services of his clan as a nonbiased third party. The gestures he used to get this across were a hybrid of the various clans’ hand signs, and thus weren’t always the easiest to translate. 

“I’m going to assume that you’re offering your clan’s services, not suggesting that we go fight your mother-in-law,” Hashirama translated. Badly. 

Tomatsu shrugged, and made a universal gesture that could be taken as “either/or”. 

Sora sighed heavily, and muttered, “Really?” in the sassiest tone Tobirama had yet heard at one of these meetings. 

“All in favor?” Hashirama asked cheerily. Most everyone seemed to be glad that someone else volunteered for the task, so most of the hands at the table went up. “Any other business before lunch?” 

Madara made a face, moved like he wanted to say something, but held his tongue. 

“No one?” Hashirama looked over the faces surrounding the table, paused on Madara for a moment and then shrugged when Madara didn’t speak up. “All right. Meeting’s adjourned.” 

Tobirama lingered out of curiosity, because it looked damned well like Madara was actually going to do it. Here and now, of all times and places. But it seemed he wasn’t the only one who noticed Madara’s behavior - he’d been staring at Hashirama a lot during the meeting, so it wasn’t surprising - and he also wasn’t the only one waiting to see how this was going to go down. 

Madara met Hashirama near the door, placing a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Hashirama, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. It’s. Uhm. Why I was waiting in your office yesterday.” 

“Eh?! There was no one in my office,” Hashirama protested. “Just an evil ghost.” 

“Really anija?” Tobirama muttered, and Madara patted Hashirama’s shoulder. 

“Even so. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 

“Right. And what is it?” Hashirama asked, seemingly unaware of the way the room’s remaining occupants were holding their breath. 

Madara leaned close, stated flatly, “I fucked your brother.” And while Hashirama was still staring blankly, he picked up his things, smirked at Tobirama, and walked right out of the council meeting room. 

“Eh!?” Hashirama shrieked. Then he spun around, pointing at Tobirama, and in a squeaky, shrieky tone, demanded, “And just what do you have to say to this?” 

Tobirama blinked at Hashirama, then at the others nearby who were all biting their tongues in various states of hilarity. Shrugged, grinned a little, and cheerfully told his brother, “I fucked your friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some good behavior to reward.” 

He dramatized his limp on the way out, and lingered at the door as he heard Hashirama demand of someone else, “Did you know about this?” 

He nearly burst out laughing a moment later, when Yasutora replied, “Yeah.” 

* * *

A short time later, Tobirama found Madara in his office, and Madara was quite appreciative of the way Tobirama slid into his lap and immediately kissed his mouth. Tobirama was even more appreciative of the way Madara’s hands gripped his ass and squeezed. He laughed into the kiss. “He couldn’t even say anything, and you missed half of it.” 

Madara stopped the words with another kiss, though he was smiling too. 

There were other things that they would need to do, to talk about, in order for this to work, but for now... For once, Tobirama was fairly certain he could say he was happy. 

They were still making out when Hashirama burst in, eight minutes later, wailing, “After all I’ve done for you!” 

“Anija,” Tobirama snapped, breaking off the kiss - a genuine tragedy, that - to glare at his brother. Madara didn’t bother to let go of him, seemingly riding high on endorphins. “This doesn’t involve you. Leave.” 

“After all we’ve been through!” 

“Really, Hashirama? If you aren’t here for work, then go,” said Madara, even though he often took much longer lunch breaks than this. 

“Eh?” 

“You don’t even have your things,” Madara observed, and Tobirama bit his lip to hide a grin. “Then go get them. I don’t see why I should end my break so quickly if you aren’t here for actual work related purposes.” 

Hashirama flailed in the doorway for a moment, making threatening gestures at one or the other of them, then darted back out into the hall, making a noise much like a kettle letting off steam. 

Tobirama buried a laugh into Madara’s shoulder. “See, I told you he’d be a cockblock.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itadakimasu: traditionally said before eating a meal. A polite phrase that doesn’t quite have an english equivalent. Lit “I receive this food.” It’s somewhere between saying grace and just “Let’s eat”. It does seem to have religious origins, but in modern context it is like saying that you’re grateful to everyone involved in bringing the food to your plate. Apparently it is quite rude not to say it, though the custom is disappearing from day to day life in Japan.
> 
> Gyoza: Japanese potstickers. The wrapper seems a little more delicate than the ones often found in American grocery stores. I recently got some spicy beef ones that weren’t very spicy, but were really tasty.
> 
> Anmitsu: A dessert made of agar gelatin (the mitsu) and anko (the an) with various fruits and for some reason, boiled peas. Not sure why the peas, but I wouldn’t have thought of using white kidney beans to make dessert either. There are a few varieties, including cream anmitsu, which has a scoop of ice cream added.
> 
> Another thing about being polite in Japan: It’s considered rude to take a compliment directly. If someone says your cooking is great, you should never just say “Thank you.” You’ll sound arrogant. You should always say something that sounds more humble, like, “I tried my best,” or “I had help” (or basically anything that makes it sound like you don’t think you’re the shit). 
> 
> Fundoshi: Traditional Japanese underwear. Recently, they’ve been making a comeback, and I imagine that in the Naruto universe, they wear something more like modern fundoshi rather than the old school stuff. Seriously? I’m tempted to buy some. The modern ones look super comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> (Original end notes moved to appropriate chapter.)  
> (Edit 1/10/19: Changed Tatewaki's name to Kumano, and Kodachi's to Seiryū. For reasons.)


End file.
